


Good Gri(e)f

by RiaTheDreamer



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Friendship, Gen, Humor, M/M, Temple Shenanigans, mentions of grimmons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2018-11-14 01:51:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11197974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiaTheDreamer/pseuds/RiaTheDreamer
Summary: “Simmons is right to be freaked out about this. This seriously complicates his relationship!”While Donut was not wrong, Simmons could count at least 43 other reasons why he should be freaked out by the fact that Grif had currently been turned into an infant.





	1. Baby (Dirty) Blues

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hound_Unit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hound_Unit/gifts).



When the shitshow of today began with Simmons using their shared radio channel to mutter a weak “Help” they all knew the problem was not going to be easy to deal with.

Tucker wondered how many of them were actually awake enough to have put on their armor. He was the first to respond, moving his hand to the side of his helmet to ask, “What the fuck, dude?”

“Please…” Simmons’ voice managed to sound terrified, confused, dumbfounded and freaked out all at once. “Come help.”

That caused Tucker to frown and walk faster. It suddenly occurred to him he was not sure where to rush to, but Wash was the one to ask through the radio, “Where are you?”

“The bedroom.”

The answer, spoken with a voice that was close to cracking, caused Tucker to halt in surprise. Frowning, he began to run again, being joined by Wash who had rounded a hallway. The two Blues stayed quiet, awaiting further explanation.

“You need help in the bedroom?” Donut, of course, asked. If he had tried to sound worried he failed. He sounded curious, if not delighted, more than anything.

“Simmons, what is going on?” Carolina cut in, her voice stomach-twisting serious. For someone to use their shared channel like this they better have a good reason. Or else Carolina would be the reason the person cried to the others for help.

“I-“ The cyborg cut himself off, almost sounding like he was choking on a sob. The last time he had been like this he had been sure he had seen Grif’s pile of dirty laundry _move_. By itself. No one had dared to come close to that corner ever since, not even after they had burned the remains. “Can you please just come?”

The ones who had heard the cry for help (or at least had not decided to ignore it) turned out to be Donut, Carolina, Wash and Tucker who all came to a halt in front of the bedroom door on the same time, all thanks to some coincidence and dramatic timing.

Carolina wasted no time, slamming the door open with her elbow. They all rushed inside and turned their heads towards Simmons who was sitting on his bed, apparently frozen in horror.

“ _What?!_ ” Carolina barked, already aiming with her pistol even though there was no enemy in sight.

In fact, there was only Simmons who was pointing at Grif’s bed. The cyborg was not dressed, which was a sight strange enough in itself, and he clutching his blanket to cover himself with one hand.

The newcomers turned their heads to follow his stare that was focused on Grif’s blanket which seemed to be… moving?

“Oh my god, it’s happening again!” Tucker exclaimed in horror, realizing it was the living laundry story all over again.

Carolina glared at Simmons, barking, “Is that it?!”

Simmons barely had the time to let out a pathetic whine before the crying began. To everyone’s surprise it was not the cyborg who had let the tears flow, even though the wobbling lower lip revealed it was just a matter of time.

“Is that…?” Donut stepped further into the room. “…a baby?!”He sounded very happy about the thought.

And true enough; swaddled by the blanket and Grif’s orange t-shirt was an infant who seemed to have been startled by Carolina’s yell and was currently making itself known by screaming.

“Huh.” Tucker took a step closer, peeking into the bed. “Nice work, Carolina. You just introduced yourself as the mean scary lady – just like you did with us!”

Wash had placed himself next to Tucker, taking a look at what did appear to be a baby. He then looked over his shoulder to stare at Simmons. “Is that…?”

Simmons may have been trying to answer but all that left his mouth was a pained sound.

Tucker finished the sentence for him. “Grif?”

The four newcomers gathered around the bed, staring down at the infant who had stopped screaming and was instead staring up at them with big curious eyes.

“That… cannot be possible,” Wash declared but then looked at Carolina for confirmation. “Can it?”

Carolina turned to face Simmons who was still frozen on his bed. “Simmons?”

“But he was fine yesterday!” Tucker exclaimed and backed away from Grif’s bed; partly due to the infant that seemed to be reaching out a small hand for them, and partly due to the smell coming from the sheets.

“There, uhm, may have been a little accident at the temple yesterday.” Simmons finally managed to get enough words past his lips to create an actual sentence. All the soldiers in the room turned to stare at him but it was Carolina’s dark glance through the visor that made him squeak, “But we didn’t think it was important!”

“Now you just made it sound like you peed in your undersuit again.”

“’ _Again’_?” The cyborg gaped at Tucker. “There is no _again_! I’ve never-“

Wash let out an unpleased sound, immediately gaining Simmons’ attention. “You were told not to touch anything.”

“I- _I_ didn’t touch anything!”

“Yeah,” Tucker had to add to the conversation. “I am pretty sure your job description includes keeping an eye on Grif.”

“I have to blink, Tucker!”

 “Focus,” Carolina ordered, but her voice was noticeable lower than before in order to avoid any more crying coming from Simmons or the baby. “What accident?” she demanded from the cyborg who had finally gained some color in his cheeks due to being flustered.

“Grif… did talk about some weird green flash,” Simmons admitted slowly. “But he said he felt perfectly fine so we thought it was normal!”

“Since when have green flashes been normal?” Tucker huffed with his arms crossed.

“You obviously haven’t heard of Donut’s glow sticks collection,” the cyborg replied very dryly.

The pink soldier felt a sudden need to explain himself. “I am just fascinated by the power of fluids!”

Church appeared on Carolina’s shoulder, having pulled himself away from whatever code or chart the AI could keep himself busy with without a projected form. “Okay, so this is apparently happening,” he said and floated a bit closer to Grif’s bed. “Yeah, I feel like everyone should be reminded of the baby in the room.”

“Right.” Donut nodded and then squealed, “He’s so cute!”

He was reaching out to pick up the infant when Simmons shrieked, “Wait!” He had finally jumped up from the bed but was still clutching the blanket to shield himself. “Don’t touch him! Who knows if it’s contagious?”

At his suggestion everyone seemed to back a step away from the baby.

“Are we sure this is not some weird prank?” Tucker asked in a weak attempt to sound hopeful.

“Yeah, ‘cause Chorus just have some left-over baby that by some strange coincidence looks a lot like Grif,” Church snorted. When he hovered above the infant it reached out a hand again, and the AI quickly moved to his usual spot by Carolina’s shoulder.

Simmons let out a whimper again, one hand buried in his red hair, and he was staring at the bed with widened confused and scared eyes. “But,” he stammered, “this… This shouldn’t be physically possible!”

“Yeah, we’ve heard that one before,” Tucker huffed and waved him off.

At some point during the argument the baby had managed to roll over and was now slowly making its way to the edge of the bed. The soldiers looked down at it, aware that the right thing to do was to stop the baby from killing itself but with too little information about the condition it became quite easy to ignore to urge to pick it up.

Donut, as helpful as ever, immediately went to place a pillow on the floor so the baby would at least land softly.

Wash sighed and was responsible to gently turn over the baby with the butt of his rifle, knowing it would give them a little time to work with until it managed to roll over again.

“We should call Grey,” Carolina declared with a frown evident in her voice.

“Sure,” Church agreed with a snort. “Who wants to be the one to put this shitshow into words?”

“I am sure Grif’s size will concern her.” Donut had sat down on the bed, still keeping a distance between himself and the infant but was slowly nearing the within-hugging-range. The baby was looking up at him with big brown eyes, opening its mouth without really letting out any sounds.

“Simmons sure is freaked out,” Tucker said as he shrugged towards the wide-eyed cyborg.

Donut glanced at his shaking friend before huffing at the Blue, “Simmons is right to be freaked out about this. This seriously complicates his relationship!”

While Donut was not wrong, Simmons could count at least 43 other reasons why he should be freaked out by the fact that Grif had currently been turned into an infant.

The baby let out a soft wail, and suddenly the room felt too crowded. Simmons accidently dropped his blanket when his entire body turned numb. “I- I need some air,” he stuttered.

“Nice boxers,” Church called after him, seeing that Simmons’ nightwear was indeed covered by symbols of pi, to no one’s surprise.

Simmons did not answer him but quickly left the room to have a mental breakdown somewhere else. 

* * *

“Oh, that is definitely Captain Grif!” the doctor informed them somewhat cheerfully, as if this sinful violation of everything normal was something exciting and not absolutely terrifying. “The skin drafts and scars may have disappeared but the DNA sample says everything.”

She was carrying the baby in her arms, wearing rubber gloves despite the fact that his condition had proved not to be contagious (it had only been a matter of time before Donut could not resist tickling the baby’s belly. He had not backed away when Simmons had warned him, but he had jumped backwards when the infant began to wail. Loudly.), but as she reached the center of the room she absentmindedly handed it to Simmons who happened to be standing next to her.

The cyborg looked like he might drop the swaddled baby out of pure shock and discomfort. He stood there for a moment, shifting his weight, and turned his head desperately as he looked for a way out of the situation.

Out of sheer desperation he turned towards Sarge but the superior ignored him completely, keeping his focus on the doctor in the room. “I didn’t think Grif was capable of getting smaller. Only fatter.”

Doctor Grey chuckled slightly. “Of course this isn’t the normal procedure but seeing how one of our temples can triple your body’s average amount of kisspeptin I think we really shouldn’t be that surprised.”

 “So Grif is currently a baby,” Church said from Carolina’s shoulder. “Doing nothing but complaining, eating and sleeping. Can somebody please point out the big change for me here?”

Simmons had managed to pass the baby along to Wash, and the maroon soldier quickly crossed his arms to prevent getting it back. “Here’s the change,” he said. While his voice still had the shocked edge, it was not wavering like before. “When Grif shits himself, we have to clean it up.”

 “You,” the AI corrected him dryly. “ _You_ have to clean it up.”

Wash looked just as uncomfortable with the baby in his arms – though it did not seem like he was about to drop it on the floor like it had been the case with Simmons – and he turned to pass it along to Tucker, and so began to whole ‘toss-around-the-hot-potato-game’.

“Gross,” Tucker said and the tiny person he was holding let out a gurgle.

“You’re not exactly house-trained yourself, Tucker.”

Tucker shot the AI a dirty look through the visor. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” He turned to pass on the baby to the next person in line. Unfortunately that person happened to be Caboose, and Tucker just managed to stop himself before creating that disaster. Instead he handed it to Carolina who immediately put it down on the research table in the middle of the room.

Church continued undisturbed with a snort in his voice, “Remember that time when you found the bottle of whiskey?”

That brought back memories and Tucker held up a hand to defend himself. “Hey, that wasn’t shit: that was vomit. And you didn’t even clean it up. You just moved my bed, so when I woke up I would step right into-“

“Enough,” Carolina cut in sharply. Her stern tone even caused the baby to stop wriggling inside his blanket. The Freelancer took some deep breaths before raising her head to ask Grey, “Do you know how to fix this?”

“To be honest, I’m not even sure what caused this! The temple, of course, but I’ve never heard of alien technology that could do- well, _this_.”

As she talked Simmons had walked over to the table to investigate the wriggling bundle. While he was still not in armor, he had at least put on his everyday clothes consisting of long black pants and a maroon t-shirt. It improved his dignity a little though it was probably too late since Church had made sure to photograph the boxers while he had the chance.

The cyborg raised his metal hand to carefully pull away the blanket near the baby’s chin, making it easier to see the face. Big, brown eyes stared back at him.

“I don’t get it.” Church sounded genuinely irritated at the situation. It wasn’t the fact that Grif was a baby that stressed him out but the fact that he did not know how or _why_. “Tempe of Recuperation? Isn’t recuperation something you need _after_ you get a baby?

“What was the temple supposed to do exactly?” Wash asked. He was now seriously regretting letting the Reds be in charge of that mission, even after telling them ‘ _Don’t touch anything’_ and _‘Seriously, we don’t want to mess around with more alien tech_ ’.

 “Make babies,” Caboose answered helpfully. He was keeping a certain distance between himself and the baby, for rather obvious reasons.

“No, that’s the Temple of Procreation,” Tucker said and crossed his arms. “No idea of what Recuperation is. Shouldn’t it be one big spa or something?”

“Oooh!” Donut could not help but exclaim in excitement. He had been complaining by the lack of bubble baths ever since moving into Armonia.

“But _why_ turn people into babies?” Wash asked and no one was able to answer him.

It was Carolina who broke the silence, “We need more details.”

“Yes,” Sarge replied immediately and everyone turned to look at him in surprise. “We need to know if we can squeeze that green light into a weapon. Use it against the enemies.”

“For the love of god, please no,” Wash muttered under his breath. He was already imagining a field filled with crying babies. It was not a pretty scenario, nor a quiet one.

“Maybe it malfunctioned!” Donut suggested with a gasp. “Or maybe the Temple thinks that cuteness is a sort of recuperation.”

At some point during the conversation the baby had opened his mouth and tilted his head so he could suck on one of the metal fingers that had been hovering just above his face. Simmons had been too distracted with coming up with another excuse for his team again to notice, and he let out a choked noise of surprise before he retracted his finger.

He shook his hand to get rid of any drool. “Stop doing that,” he scolded him, looking down at the chubby face that suddenly looked very disappointed. His bottom lip was even quivering. But Simmons knew better than to let a baby suck on metal fingers – the bacteria and germs alone! “He can’t even talk and he’s already poisoning himself.”

Donut nodded gravely. “We need to have that cigarette talk as quickly as possible.”

Simmons blinked before hissing, “ _We are not raising him_!”

When the baby let out a soft wail Donut sent Simmons a glance that felt very displeased, even with the visor hiding it.

The sound of crying caused Simmons to shuffle his feet nervously. “We need to get him a real pacifier.”

"I don't know where Doc is,” Caboose replied immediately. Everyone turned their head to stare at him.

Tucker groaned when he finally realized what he was talking about. “Why are we still having the pacifist-pacifier discussion?”

 “Because you are all fucking idiots,” Church answered helpfully.

His comment only caused Simmons to look up at him, letting out a hiss, “Don’t curse in front of him.” For a moment it looked like he would actually bow down to cover the baby’s ears.

“Why? Junior grew up in Blue Base and he turned out fine.”

Simmons turned towards Tucker and let out a self-righteous huff. “Junior didn’t speak English.”

“Of course he did!”

“Bow-Chicka-Bow-Wow doesn’t count,” Simmons said flatly.

“That’s racist, dude.”

“Question,” Church said loudly to gain everyone’s attention. The baby’s cries had quiet somewhat down, settling for a pouty expression instead, and they were all grateful for that. “Is there any chance Grif is aware of what’s happening? Or that he can remember all this when he get normal again? As normal as he can become.”

There was a moment of heavy silence as they considered this.

“Well,” Doctor Grey said, somehow managing to sound cheerful. She clasped her hands together, “I’ll make sure to schedule him some therapy sessions at the end of this week, just in case.”

“Wait, you think it’s going to take that long to fix this?” Simmons asked, sounding rather horrified. His face had turned pale again. Well, he was always pale but not it seemed even _paler_ which was almost astounding.

“Oh, dear, this is the optimistic version! Worst case scenario we have to wait his actual age before he is, well, his actual age again! That is some extreme scheduling ahead! Though not unseen during austerity.”

Simmons’ shoulders visibly slumped.

Grey sniffed. “Oh. It seems like someone needs a change.” She lifted her head to look directly at Simmons. “Do you want the ‘ _New Mother Guide_ ’ brochure? We still have some stocked from before the war.”

Simmons stared at her wide-eyed, and even though his mouth seemed to moving no words could be heard.

Donut put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Everyone had grown rather quiet since the task of changing diaper had been brought up (and they were all blissfully oblivious to the fact that they had not yet found diapers for the baby, but they had instead swaddled it in a blanket), and seemed to be staring at anywhere else but the smelling bundle on the table.

Finally Tucker was the one to speak his thoughts, “You know why none of us volunteering to change the diaper? Because there are certain lines you don’t want to be _able_ to tell Grif and of them is ‘ _I’ve seen your tiny_ _dick’_.”

Church snorted loudly, sounding a bit too gleeful with the whole situation. “Hey, I bet Simmons can actually say that. Even before Grif was turned into a baby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… this is certainly an experiment. Fun backstory; back in November I suffered from an infection in my legs again and I was on some pretty good painkillers. At some point I wrote like 4 jokes for this story. When I woke up the next morning I looked at the notes, went “wtf?” and so the story was doomed to die because I found the plot too weird.
> 
> But then, in a past midnight discussion with the wonderful Hound_Unit I was out of it enough to show her the jokes, and she immediately demanded for this story to be revived as a birthday gift. Took me some months to make it into an actual plot but here we are. So if you like this story, thank her!
> 
> Happy birthday, Hound! I hope you’ll enjoy this story – You have certainly waited for it for a long time.
> 
> Kimball and Doyle should probably have appeared in this chapter but I could not make it fit, so let’s say they’re at an important meeting and they’ll show up later. There will also come much more explanation about how and why this happened but for now just settle with all the lols. Basically, this story is all about the lols.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it so far.


	2. Santa Baby!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are we going to name him?”
> 
> Simmons froze, struggling to find the words before sputtering, “Donut, it doesn’t work that way! We are not adopting him!”
> 
> “Well, you’re the one who refuses to call him by his name,” Tucker reminded him with a shrug.
> 
> “Because it’s _weird_.” Simmons crossed his arms as he stated his point.

“So why does Chorus have a bunch of baby stuff lying around?” Tucker asked with a nod towards the old box Kimball had carried into the room a few moments before. Doctor Grey had disappeared to check on some of the scans but that might just have been a bad excuse to leave before the filled diaper had to be dealt with, leaving the Reds and Blues – correction: Reds – correction: Simmons to deal with that.

Donut entered the room again, carrying the baby they had now stuffed into an orange jumpsuit. It was worn so the color had faded a bit but at least it kind of fit and it was free from poop – so far. “And why is none of clothes in pastel colors?” he asked. After putting him on the examination table again, he looked him over once more and let out a disapproving  _ tsk _ .

“We did not have ‘lying around’. It was stashed away,” Kimball explained. She was keeping a certain distance from the table but her eyes were set on the baby they had explained was in fact Grif. “While Chorus has been in turmoil for so long that starting a family has not seemed like a possibility, many kept the hope this planet would once again prove a secure environment for children. Until then, I am sure no one will mind if you borrow them for this… unusual situation.”

“How many know?” Wash asked from the corner he and Carolina had retreated to. This had somehow crossed the normal level of craziness from the Reds and Blues, and they were still trying to figure out how to handle, ahem,  _ Codename: Baby Orange (But Not the Fruit Kind)  _ as Donut and Caboose had named the situation together.

Kimball briefly turned her head to answer him. “We’re trying to keep the rumor contained.”

“So a rumor already exists?” Carolina concluded with a not too happy voice.

“Well, since somebody let a picture of Captain Simmons only dressed in boxers go viral, the soldiers naturally began to talk.”

Simmons, who had been staring intensely at the wriggling bundle on the table, suddenly looked up at the mention of his name. “Wait, what?”

On Carolina’s shoulder Church grinned quietly.

Kimball took a step closer to the table, gesturing towards the baby. “If you want to avoid attention you should keep him out of sight. An infant would naturally attract attention. It’s been… too long since anyone has seen a baby.” Her voice had a faint tone of longing in it, a brief sigh.

Tucker picked up on it immediately, jaw dropping behind the visor. “Oh my god, you want to hold him.”

“What?” Her voice had turned sharp when she looked at him but not enough to cover her surprise at the accusation.

He continued, just as astonished as before, “You like babies.”

“I-“

Tucker was gesturing wildly between Donut, the baby and Kimball. “Donut, give her the baby.”

“I’m not-“ Kimball did not even have the time to finish her sentence before the infant had been shoved into her arms. She was still trying to adjust her grip on him when he began to cry.

“Yeah, he’s sad again,” Caboose said as he raised his hands to cover his ears, oblivious to the fact that he was wearing a helmet.

“Damnit, Blue, now our ears are terrorized again!” Sarge first glared at Tucker, then towards the bundle Kimball was currently trying to calm down. “Take out its batteries!”

“No, look, she’s got it handled.” Tucker waved him off. “She’s rocking him and everything. She likes babies.”

“Captain Tucker-“

Tucker got into a challenging stance, hand on his hip and a smug tone to his voice. “So you are saying you don’t like babies?”

Kimball raised her chin, keeping her dignity by replying flatly while still automatically rocking the baby in hopes of soothing its cries, “I won’t deny the fact that a baby on Chorus will be the cause of some excitement-“

“You think he’s cute.”

“ _ Tucker, _ ” Carolina cut in sharply which did not help on the crying.

“Wait, you like him too? Is this like a woman, motherly, maternal-“

At this point Kimball just turned away from Tucker, facing a flustered Simmons instead. “Have you tried feeding him?”

Before the Simmons could answer Sarge began to bark, “You mean the key to make Grif shut up is by keeping his mouth full? Red Team figured that one out a looong time ago. Simmons, initiate Emergency Plan Miniature Orange.”

“We still need the milk, sir,” Simmons answered quietly, but it sounded like there were a lot of other issues keeping him from feeding the baby.

“I do believe the mess hall is in possession of some milk powder,” Kimball pointed out. She had to raise her voice in order to be heard through the crying.

“Yeah, but is that truly healthy? This brochure is all about the ‘ _ all natural _ ’ way and since neither of us have, well, I mean you two have, but not-“ Simmons’ face grew red and he stopped waving around the  _ New Mother Guide _ around when he realized he had stepped into a dangerous subject –

-especially with  _ Kimball  _ and  _ Carolina _ , out of all women, in the room with him. They had both turned their head to stare at him. “What?”

“Boobs,” Tucker said. “He’s talking about boobs. And holy fucking shit, Simmons, are there pictures?” He immediately reached for the pamphlet.

Simmons took advantage of the fact that he was tallest of the two of them, and he stretched out his arm above their heads. “No, it’s mine, you can’t take it, we need it.”

“Yeah, okay, just tell us how many times you’ve read that damn thing,” Church demanded from Carolina’s shoulder.

Simmons stopped visibly trying to fend Tucker off him but still kept his arm outstretched so that the Blue eventually gave up. “I… Just twice, but I think it’s a reasonable-“

“He’s read the thing twice,” Church repeated slowly to the room all while nodding. He let the fact that Simmons was now dependable on a mother’s guide sink in before admitting, “I am so glad you are a Red.”

“I am just trying to be a responsible-“

“Mother?” Church interrupted the sputtering Red.

“ _ Friend - _ ” Simmons corrected him sternly which just earned him a snort, “-who is making sure we don’t accidently kill him while trying to formula feed him.”

“I love friendly friend times,” Caboose said, nodding to what Simmons had just stated.

“It’s Grif,” Tucker said flatly. “Pretty sure food can never harm him.”

“I’ll tell the mess hall to prepare a bottle,” Kimball said whose stance had grown more and more tense as the baby cried. “I hope they won’t mind waiting for a proper explanation.”

And then there was a moment of silence – minus the wailing.

Finally Tucker decided to speak, “So, you’re gonna hand him over or what?”

Kimball’s head snapped upwards. “What?”

“The baby.  _ Grif _ .”

“Oh. Yes.” As if suddenly snapping out of a trance, Kimball stopped rocking the infant and placed him right into Tucker’s arms.

“Wha- No. Donut, come take him.” After another round of pass-around-the-baby he ended up in the arms of Donut who tried to see if gurgling noises could amuse him enough to stop crying.

“We’ll go see if Grey has found more info on the Temple of Recuperation,” Wash said, taking a step away from the wall. As he did, Carolina began to move as well. Apparently the Freelancers had silently agreed not to stay behind to see the others bottle feed Grif. “You guys can take care of  _ this  _ problem in the meantime.” 

When they had left Tucker snorted. “And so the ‘bravest’ of us left.”

“Wait, you know how babies work,” Simmons sounded astonished as he came to this conclusion, facing Tucker as if he was the solution to the problem. Tucker actually took a step backwards.

“If you could call the creature a baby,” Church snorted, revealing he had not left with the Freelancers but had instead picked Tucker as his host. Chances were the AI just enjoyed watching the chaos play out. “Pretty sure it’s not the proper definition.”

“I know how Junior worked,” Tucker replied sternly. “And no way, dude; I’m already parent, so don’t go dropping Grif on me. It’s someone else’s turn. ‘sides, he’s a Red – your shitshow.”

“But everyone’s headache since he won’t stop screaming,” Church pointed out, glaring at Donut who was still unsuccessful in his attempt of keeping the baby quiet.

“He’s a little grumpy,” he admitted and made another noise meant for the baby before turning towards the Red Team Leader, “Sarge, do you want to try?”

The bark came immediately, “No. Comfort Grif – never.”

“But he’s so cute!” Donut rocked him back and forth before looking up at Simmons and Tucker. “What are we going to name him?”

Simmons froze, struggling to find the words before sputtering, “Donut, it doesn’t work that way! We are not adopting him!”

“Well, you’re the one who refuses to call him by his name,” Tucker reminded him with a shrug.

“Because it’s  _ weird _ .” Simmons crossed his arms as he stated his point.

“It’s his name, dude. Grey confirmed it’s him.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that it is weird! And wrong! Look. Tucker, do you want to hold Grif?” Simmons looked down at the infant. “You want to be hold by Tucker, right, Grif? Don’t start to cry now, Grif.” His head snapped upwards again to face the Blue. “You see, it’s  _ weird _ .”

“Dude, he’s your responsibility now, not mine.”

“He’s not-“

“Until your job description says otherwise, we all know I’m speaking the truth.” Tucker paused for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “So what do you suggest? We don’t call him anything?”

Simmons’ stance had become incredibly tense. “We don’t need to call him anything! We’ll be going to Santa, he’ll fix it, and we’ll never mention the hours he was stuck like  _ this  _ ever again.”

* * *

The bottle of milk did help, and the baby ate faster than expected (but that was probably not a surprise since he apparently was Grif), and when they finally got him to burp the Freelancers had the two Warthogs ready.

Sarge had chosen to stay behind, obviously uncomfortable with the whole Grif-being-small-and-crying situation, and they left Caboose behind to leave space for Grif who would be normal and fine and grownup when they headed back.

Simmons was at the wheel, because Grif could not do it, and Donut was in the seat next to him with Tucker at the machine gun. The Freelancers were in the other Warthog.

And Grif was crying.

He was wailing so loudly Simmons wished Donut was holding a siren instead – his ears would have preferred that.

“For fuck’s sake, turn him off! He’s worse than that stupid polka,” Church groaned. “Every goddamn pirate on this planet will know we are here.”

“We’re trying!” Simmons had turned his head to watch Donut trying to calm down the baby with the pacifier but he kept spitting it out.

Donut suddenly had an idea. “Maybe he wants to sit on shotgun’s lap?”

“Wha- Donut, I’m driving, don’t-“

But seconds later Simmons had to step on the brake when he suddenly had a baby in his lap. After holding it with a secure grip, like the pamphlet had explained, the crying began to die down for some reason. Simmons was not sure why he was apparently the favorite person, but he hated Grif’s bad judgement. “You are embarrassing both of us,” he told the baby, tilting his head to look into the brown eyes staring at him.

He knew Donut was smiling in pride while watching the scene.

The other Warthog reversed until it was next to them. “Everything okay?” Wash called from the driver’s seat. 

Realizing he had forgotten something in Armonia, Simmons asked in horror, “Did anyone bring the pamphlet?!”

“We’re fine,” Tucker said with a groan and watched Simmons and Donut switch seats so that they could drive while the baby kept quiet. “Let’s just get this over with.”

* * *

When Santa told them the bad news, the baby began to cry again.  Maybe a part of him faintly understood what this meant or maybe he had just grown hungry again or maybe the sight of the alien AI just scared him. Donut immediately handed him to Simmons, knowing he had a bigger chance of comforting the baby. Simmons was too stunned by the news to object.

“Well, shit.”

“Tucker,  _ language _ .” Donut reminded him with a  _ tsk _ .

“Surely, there must be a way to reverse this,” Carolina said with a tone in her voice that revealed that even if Santa’s answer was a no then she was going to fix the mess herself.

The AI answered her quickly, “The effect was never intended to be reversed.”

“Look, why was this temple even needed in the first place? Nothing I couldn’t solve if you called me, bow-chicka-bow-wow.”

“This is not about-” Simmons almost choked on the word, feeling his face grow hot. “ _ that _ .”

“The Temple of Procreation was meant to guarantee future generations,” Santa repeated again, and they wondered if an AI could grow impatient. “This Temple, however, was created in order to ensure the rebuilding of society in case of a long standing war.”

Tucker threw up his hands in frustration. Having an alien sword and having worked as an ambassador, he felt like he should be able to follow the aliens’ logic – as weird as it could be at times. “I don’t get that – what does it have to do with babies! You don’t give a baby a hammer and expect them to do something useful with it.”

“But Grif was not supposed to end up in this state, was he?” Wash asked. He had quietly been trying to work through the explanation Santa had given them about the temple’s functions but it still did not clarify just why they had ended up with a baby.

“He was already in the desired age,” Simmons said sternly, almost stomping a foot, as if he could bargain the old Grif back. “He was a soldier, not too young like the Lieutenants, not too old, he’d be perfectly fit to rebuild society -“

“Had he not been  _ Grif, _ ” Church felt like adding.

The Temple of Recuperation was in fact not a spa, just like the Reds had claimed. It was, however, meant to secure the future of the planet and its inhabitants, like most of the other temples. From what they had been able to gather from Santa’s explanation, then the temple was meant as a last solution after a long-drawn and devastating war. Should it had wiped out most of the population, at least the adults habitants that would have served their duty as soldiers. With the expectations that most of the fatalities would be among the soldiers, leaving elders and children to bring back society, the temple was supposed to adjust the age of the person in the chamber. Becoming either younger or older, they would be turned into a state where they were capable of either continuing the fight or start rebuilding. It had never been used before. 

It sounded crazy, very crazy, but since the planet was also on possession of a Temple of Interior Decorating, at least this temple was an attempt to truly help the inhabitants survive.

“So what went wrong?” Wash asked, still trying to figure out why the temple would create babies when in lack of capable soldiers. This version of Grif did not exactly look suitable to bring Chorus back on its feet.

“There might have been some… miscalculations,” Santa grumbled after a brief moment hesitation. “The human biology is still unfamiliar to us.”

“The lifespan could be different,” Carolina pointed out. “It might have affected the procedure.”

“Seriously, who gives a fuck about what went wrong? No way Grif can be stuck like this.” A tone of nervousness had sneaked into Tucker’s voice, revealing he was not too happy about the fact that his drinking buddy was now way too young to be sharing a beer with. 

“I have to agree with Tucker.” Carolina looked up at Santa. “Are you sure there is no way to reverse the effect?”

Santa considered this. “Perhaps. It has not happened before as it was never the intention.”

“Maybe we could just zap him again?” Donut suggested.

“A person could only be granted the effect once in order to prevent misuse of the Temple. And it required time to store the energy needed for the procedure.”

“Makes sense,” Tucker had to admit with a shrug. “This place is the freaking Fountain of Youth if you pull your cards right. And if you don’t get fucked by alien technology.”

“And if you do try to reverse the effect?” Carolina insisted after shortly glancing at the baby who had become quiet in Simmons’ arm. The man holding him was just as silent.

“It would require calculations.”

“Which would take how long?”

“Answering that question would require further calculations.”

When the conversation did not bring them anything useful, Donut eventually became the one to ask the most important question of them all. “So does anybody know where we can buy cheap baby carriages?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I am totally reaching with the Temple of Recuperation but it will serve for jokes later in (basically everything said in this story will be used for jokes). So just ignore the weirdness of the whole thing, I just needed an explanation for this, look now when we have that over with we can move on to shenanigans. The good parts begin now!
> 
> Big thank you to Mio who is not beta-ing her own story... Well, it only makes me sure she enjoys every bit of this!
> 
> Gah, this story is so weird but so fun to write. Now I can bring in the Lieutenants and I am looking so much forward to that.
> 
> Thank you for all your support!


	3. I See Red People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dude, your parents were mean.”
> 
> “I’m an AI, Tucker, I don’t have any parents.”
> 
> “Ah, that explains so much,” Caboose said from the corner, nodding gravely.

“Shut up,” Church said, holding up his holographic hands to cover his non-existing ears under his holographic helmet. “Shut up, shut up, shut up. Shut the fuck up.”

The baby on the floor kept screaming, his mouth opening even further to let out another scream that just didn’t seem to end. They weren’t quite sure how such a tiny being could have that much air inside his lungs. He didn’t even react when Tucker dangled a rattle in front of his face.

“You know what, I don’t think it is working,” Tucker told the AI dryly. He put down the toy next to the baby on the blanket.

“No shit,” Church said but it could barely be heard over the sound of the crying. If the people of Chorus didn’t already know that there was currently a baby in the headquarters, they certainly knew now. Or maybe they just thought that Tucker hade made Caboose cry by accident again. “Feed him again,” the AI ordered his teammate while pointing at the baby who was still lying on his tummy in the middle of the baby blanket.

“Simmons said he’d already fed him.”

“Like Simmons is going to beat your ass. C’mon. We all know that Grif is gonna get fat in the end anyway. We’ll just help him regain his personality. Plus, it’ll keep his mouth stuck. Think about it, Tucker. Listen to him scream and _try to think about it through the brain-melting noise_!”

“You yelling at him doesn’t help!”

“Him crying doesn’t help,” Church retorted and projected himself onto the blanket, a couple of inches away from the baby’s face.  “Yeah, I’m talking about you, crybaby.”

“Are you trying to pick a fight with him?” Tucker asked but then, to both of their surprise, they realized it was quiet. The baby’s mouth was still open, but just a few curious gurgles left it now. A chubby hand reached for AI, and he slowly scooted himself forward in his attempt to clasp his fingers around it. Tucker watched the scene with eyes just as wide in fascination. “Holy crap, it’s working. Keep insulting him.”

The AI tilted his head as the fingers came closer and closer to touching him. “Why don’t you have a turn at yelling at the baby?”

Tucker snorted loudly. “I’ll pass.”

“Can I try?” a voice sounded from the corner where a Blue armored soldier was facing the wall.

After a deep sigh, Tucker turned his head to yell at him, “No, Caboose, just stay in your corner.”

“Aw.”

“You want a piece of me?” Church asked the curious baby, not flinching as the fingers almost brushed against him. “Come and take it.”

With an excited gurgle the fingers finally closed around him –

-And Church projected himself another two inches away. The baby widened his eyes with a surprised wheeze, drool dripping from his lower lip.

Church snorted as he crossed his arms. "Yeah, you got really disappointed there, didn't you? Not what you wanted, huh? Look at that - he's already getting used to the bitter truth of life."

“Man, you’re mean,” Tuck said, kneeling beside the blanket to watch the baby continue to scoot forwards, inching towards Church once again.

“Oh, c’mon. That’s what I’ve always been taught – don’t start to want anything, ‘cause you’ll probably end up hating it anyway.”

“Dude, your parents were mean.”

“I’m an AI, Tucker, I don’t have any parents.”

“Ah, that explains so much,” Caboose said from the corner, nodding gravely.

Church spun around to glare at the blue soldier who still had his visor pressed against the wall, but before the AI could ask into that comment, the baby opened his mouth instead. Church’s blue shape flickered for a second as the scream seemed to echo through the room.

Tucker tried his luck with the pacifier, only to have it spat out every time. “Can we call Simmons now?”

“ _Try_. I’m pretty sure the asshole turned off his radio ‘cause he knew we’d be dealing with this.”

When the pacifier was sent flying with enough force to make the AI flicker as it went through him, Tucker finally gave up. “So what do we do?”

“They’re Reds. Try their sixth sense or something.”

“Dude, Grif is a baby. Not a ghost.” Tucker eyed the screaming infant and sighed. “Unfortunately. Even a wailing ghosts wouldn’t beat these decibels.”

Church had his hands on his helmet again. “Just trashtalk the color red or something. The Reds will teleport here from out of nowhere. Worst most annoying and weirdly logic-breaking skill. Who wants to start?”

They both turned their heads when Caboose’s voice suddenly called out. “Oooh! Me!” He cleared his throat before telling the wall, “Red really doesn’t match well with green. Unless you’re colorblind. In that case, grey doesn’t match well with the other grey.”

“Caboose, you’re not a part of this game.”

“Then why am I winning?”

Church flexed his fingers but eventually decided not to answer the blue soldier. Instead he tilted his head to look at the ceiling, and then proceeded to loudly say, “Red Team is the shittiest of teams, which, compared to Blue Team, really puts them in a fucking bad spot. There. Come and hit me universe, the words have been said-“

Sarge appeared in the doorway. “Did somebody call?”

Tucker frowned behind his visor, slightly impressed, more than a little bit confused, and yet still dissatisfied. “Dude, wrong Red.”

Sarge grunted, tilting his head with a considering grunt. “I had this strange feeling in the deepest part of my red core that the rightful balance of the universe itself had been violated.  Hmm… Maybe Donut is adding bows to the official Red Team drapery again.”

“I- You know what, I’m not even going to ask.” Church pointed at the crying baby on the floor. “Just pick up your fucking baby-sized fire alarm and shut it up.”

The Red Team leader took a step backwards, looking into the hallway. “What was that? Do you need my help, Lopez? Of course you do.” He began to walk away. “No time for goodbye insults, you good-for-nothing Blues.”

A sputtering Church watched the Red disappear from the room. He kept his voice loud, both so it could be heard through the crying and so that Sarge could hear it on the hallway. “Fuck you, Sarge! You can’t hear a non-existing call for help with this background noise! _And how was that not an insult?!_ ”

“It’s the general term!” Sarge’s voice could barely be heard from the distance, and it kept fading. “Look it up in the enclyclowhatia. There’s a picture of you. Same sad picture can be found under the category loser slash disgrace slash imbecile slash…”

And then it was quiet.

Well, except the constant wailing.

Oh, and Caboose humming in the corner.

“Well, that was a great plan,” Tucker snorted. He looked down at the blanket that had begun to be stained by the baby’s tears.

“Shut up.”

“You’re doing it all wrong,” Tucker told him with a shrug. “If you want Simmons to feel insulted, you have to say some stupid shit like that Star Wars sucks or that pi is a useless number or-“

And, right on time, Simmons appeared in the doorway. His helmet was off, revealing his flushed cheeks and the bags under his eyes. For a moment he stared directly at Tucker, and for a second his mouth opened as if to argue against his statements, but then his eyes fell on the crying baby. “What are you doing?” he asked, rushing past the Blues to pick up the infant.

Church watched as he began to rock the baby back and forth, and the AI wondered why the universe worked in such strange ways. “Remind me to never jump inside a Red’s brain,” he told Tucker, projecting himself onto his shoulder. “Ever.”

“I asked you to take care of him!” Simmons snapped at them but somehow still kept his voice low enough to avoid extra tears from the baby. “To keep him safe, not traumatize him!”

“We did,” Tucker said. “See, we put him on a blanket so we couldn’t accidently drop him, and then we ordered Caboose to go stand in the corner, you know, just in case.”

“Can I come out now?”

Church sighed loudly. “No, Caboose.”

“Aw.”

 “First Church wanted to put Grif there, but I told him that nobody puts a baby in the corner.” When his comment didn’t receive any reaction, Tucker spread out his arms in frustration. “C’mon, that was funny.”

“Yeah, that’s why we can’t stop laughing,” Church snorted, watching the scene from his shoulder.

Simmons was currently blowing raspberries at the baby in his arms, trying to get him to smile or at least stop crying. It took a few seconds before noise was replaced with a curious gurgle and a chubby hand began to grasp at his chest plate.

 “You look adorable,” the AI told him and considered whether or not to take a picture, but he knew it wouldn’t beat his shot of Simmons in boxers anyway.

“Shut up,” Simmons said, and they all pretended not to see how his cheeks grew red.

Instead Tucker chose to notice the dark bags under his eyes. “I think he looks like crap. Motherhood doesn’t suit you.”

Simmons sent him a death glare that softened when he turned his head to stare at the baby instead. “Why can’t you just grow up?” he quietly asked him, rolling his eyes as the baby began to drool on him.

“Technically, he is growing,” Tucker pointed out. “Just very, very slowly.”

“Thank you for the support,” Simmons said dryly before sighing. “I don’t have time for this. I asked you to take care of him because I’m busy helping Grey looking through Santa’s latest statistics, and the Freelancers are busy chasing off the pirates away from the temple, and the others are sorting out explosives for the mission tomorrow, and why can’t you just be useful for once?!”

Tucker smacked his lips. “Ow. Someone’s in a bad mood.”

“I’ve slept three hours this last week. In total. Because of you.” He glared at the infant. “And you once said you hold sleep sacred. Why can’t you stick to your beliefs as a baby?”

“Excuse me, sir?” They all spun around to see Jensen in the doorway. The other Lieutenants showed up behind her a moment afterwards. She was wringing her hands, looking at the baby as she said, “We couldn’t help but notice you were in the need of some help.”

“Is it that obvious?” Tucker asked them.

“We heard the crying four floors away,” Bitters told them dryly.

Then he was showed aside as Palomo entered the room. The Lieutenant of Green Team gasped and then lunged himself forward, snatching the baby from Simmons’ arms before he could even open his mouth to protest. “He’s so cute!” he exclaimed, somehow managing to ignore Simmons who was hovering around him, fingers flexing as he was ready to reach out and catch the baby in case Palomo dropped him. “Hi, little guy!”

“Palomo, show the Captain some respect,” Smith told him as he marched over to salute the baby. “We are very sorry that this… incident has affected you this way, Captain Grif, but I ensure you that every loyal soul on Chorus won’t respect you any less because of this.”

“Can’t we just drop the titles?” Bitters asked. He slowly came closer but kept his distance from Palomo. “Because I’m not calling him ‘ _sir’_.”

“You didn’t call him ‘ _sir_ ’ when he was old, Bitters,” Jensen pointed out, and then she froze. Her lisp became worse as she tried to correct her mistake, looking at the baby as she apologized, “Uhm, sorry, Captain, I wasn’t trying to make fun of your age or anything!”

“Bitters, don’t you want hold him?” Palomo asked.

“No,” Bitters told him.

And then Palomo shoved the infant into his arms, ignoring Simmons who let out an _eep_ in worry. “Here-“

“Palomo, goddamn-“

But it was too late. He instinctively wrapped his arms around the baby to keep it from falling to the floor, and the baby, in return, began to sob.

 “Bitters!” Palomo scolded him with a tilted head. “You made your Captain cry!”

“ _Why_ are we here?” Bitters demanded to know as he began to bounce the baby up and down, hoping to make the crying stop.

Church watched him struggle with the task. “I really want to know that as well.”

Jensen looked up at her Captain who was still anxiously watching Bitters and the baby. “We just wanted to offer our help,” she told him. “In case you needed it. I’m not hinting that it looks like you need it but-“

“Take him,” Tucker said, cutting her off.

Simmons spun around to stare at him with widened eyes. “What?”

Tucker just shrugged. “You just said you didn’t have time to look after him. So let the kids take care of the kid. What could go wrong?”

“It’s okay, sir!” Jensen told him and sent him a smile. “We can look after him.”

“We really can’t,” Bitters said and then a chubby hand reached up to touch his visor. “Stop that,” he hissed and the baby giggled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been like half a year, so, SURPRISE! I updated! And I've also made an actual plot for this fic and everything. So yeah! This fic lives. Who could have guessed!


	4. Scrap That Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can we please drop the stupid titles?”  
> “You made your Captain cry, Bitters,” Smith informed him gravely. “Some proper manners wouldn’t hurt in this situation.”

“Absolutely not!”

“Why not?” Bitters said and shrugged without losing the grip on the baby he was holding. “I’m sure Captain Grif would approve.”

Smith shook his head, looking at the baby once again, as if for confirmation, and then he continued to shake his head sadly. “You cannot speak for your Captain like that, Bitters, despite his current… status.”

“Why not? It’s easy-earned money. Grif always approve of that. Let’s ask him.” He adjusted the baby in his arms, tilting his head and asked in a mockingly excited voice, “You have nothing against easy-earned money, do you?”

The baby gurgled, letting out something that could sound like ‘ _blergh’_ , or maybe a _‘mlah’_. It was hard to properly tell. But Bitters settled with the way the gurgles at least seemed happy and energic, so that would definitely prove his point.

“You see,” Bitters said, turning to Smith while grinning.

But it didn’t seem to convince the older Lieutenant. “That didn’t sound like a yes, Bitters.”

“I’d say it sounds more like _‘bleh’_. Isn’t that right, little guy?” Palomo stuck his head above the baby’s, making funny noises to amuse him. The baby didn’t laugh.

Bitters took a step backwards, pulling the baby with him. “So are we doing a baby stall or not? Because people would pay at least two bucks to just see a real baby. Probably five to hold him.”

“But didn’t General Kimball tell us to keep quiet about Captain’s Grif… problem?” Palomo asked worriedly.

Smith nodded and crossed his arms. “No baby stall.”

“Fine.” After letting out a disappointed sigh, Bitters promptly shoved the baby into Palomo’s awaiting arms. “Take him.”

“Yes!” Palomo literally jumped in joy. “We should totally make a scrapbook and-“

The baby began to cry.

“No!” After his own horrified exclamation, Palomo did his best to calm him down, rocking him back and forth while blowing raspberries but nothing seemed to stop the crying. “Oh no, please, don’t- Bitters, take him!”

Said Lieutenant just crossed his arms, refusing to let the screaming bundle come near him. “No. I don’t want him. Just-“

The baby screamed again.

“You’re tearing this family apart!” Palomo yelled at Bitters before making funny noises at the crying infant again. “C’mon, little guy! Don’ be like that! It’s okay, it’s okay, we’re all friends and you- Maybe he’s hungry? Does anyone have some food? Or- how do you make a baby stop crying?!”

“Captain Grif,” Smith said, going a step closer to Palomo. “Is there any way we can assist you?”

“Can we _please_ drop the stupid titles?”

“You made your Captain cry, Bitters,” Smith informed him gravely. “Some proper manners wouldn’t hurt in this situation.”

“C’mon! He’s a baby – they cry all the time. _I_ know that.”

At some point between Bitters and Smith arguing and Palomo trying to tickle the baby, Jensen stepped into the room with a box in her hands. She watched the scene with great interest before clearing her throat. “The General found us some more stuff we could use. Oh, and right on time too, it seems! Try this.”

She pulled up another pacifier which the baby accepted immediately. When the noise disappeared, they all sighed in relief.

“See! He’s fine! I can totally do this! I’m great with babies!”

“You’re holding him wrong.” Bitters quickly stepped over to grab Palomo’s left hand and then make it support the baby’s behind. The green Lieutenant quickly adjusted to the new position. The baby just continued to suck on the pacifier.

Jensen put the box down on the floor, pulling a worn blanket from it. “We got a lot more to keep him entertained with. Just look at this.” She held up a small toy in the shape of a red race car. With an exciting grin on her face, she used her finger to make the wheels spin. “He has to love this one! Right?”

“Yeah,” Bitters snorted. “It really beats the real deal.”

Palomo placed the baby, letting him rest on his stomach. The pacifier fell from his mouth as Jensen waved the car in front of him.

Bitters sighed and looked at the ceiling, as if it could offer him a way out. It didn’t. “So for how long are we stuck with babysitting duty? And where can I file a complaint about this not being in the job description?”

“Only until Captain Simmons has gone through all the latest statistics,” Jensen lisped while pushing the car back and forth on the blanket.

“And how long will that take?”

She bit her lip. “Judging by how he’d already broken two keyboards in frustration when I asked him the same question – probably a while.”

Bitters groaned.

“Until then we shall do our very best to fulfill the duty he’s been given,” Smith said on the behalf of the team. “Jensen, were you by any chanced outfitted with bottles and diapers?”

“Sure! Enough to last the entire day.”

“Am I the only one seeing how crazy this is?” Bitters asked as the others gathered around the blanket, where the baby was babbling happily, chubby hands reaching for the toy.

Jensen moved the car for him, a soft smile on her face. “Vroom vroom.”

Palomo clasped his hands together in excitement. “We have to find the camera!”

Bitters sighed.

* * *

“He’s kinda cute,” Jensen said while rocking him back and forth.

Bitters shrugged. “He’s my Captain. I’m not going to call him cute.”

They were the only two Lieutenants left with the crying responsibility, as Smith had gone to quiet down some of the rumors that had begun to spread in the hallways, while Palomo was in the middle of a search for crafting paper in order to make his scrapbook.

Or maybe the two of them had just been smart and left before the inevitable happened – the baby had begun to cry.

“Poor little guy,” Jensen said when the sobbing didn’t stop.

“Stop talking to him like that,” Bitters snapped at her. “It’s weird. He’s my Captain.”

“Well, right now he’s a crying baby, and we’re supposed to take care of him. Please hold him. I think he likes you the best.”

For a moment Bitters just looked at the baby, the way it squirmed and looked back at up them with wide brown eyes. Then the Lieutenant shrugged. “He’s just hungry.”

“Oh, well, that’s fixable. Here.”

“Jensen-“

But it was too late. Before Bitters could cross his arms, the baby had been shoved into them, and Bitters sighed, wondering how many times this could happen in one day. It wasn’t like he was a miraculous cure or something like that. If anything, the baby’s wails just grew louder. Or maybe it was just because it came closer to his ears.

While he was slowly going deaf, Jensen investigated the box again, this time looking for the plastic bottles they’d been promised. “Oh, they have to be here somewhere-“ Varies colorful items, toy and clothes, ended up on the floor as she continued to look. “He was a lot less angry when he was an adult.”

“All babies get mad when they’re hungry. Let’s just get this over with-“

“Bitters?”

The two Lieutenants turned their heads to watch the door that was slowly being opened.

Bitters cursed under his breath. “Ah, shit-“

“You shouldn’t-“ Jensen had already begun to scold him but Bitters hushed at her. The baby cried harder.

“We can’t let Matthews see him,” he hissed. “He’ll be three times more worse than _Palomo_. I’m not listening to more gushering.”

Jensen frowned, considering his words for a second, and then she jumped into action. “Matthews,” she said, placing herself in the doorway. “Hi.”

“Hey, Jensen. So, uhm, General Kimball told me you all were busy with a very special mission, and I don’t want to disturb you or anything, though you know I’m already ready to help! You- you know that, right? But, uhm, I really sorta need to talk with Bitters right now. There are these rumors about Captain Grif and- and is that a baby crying?”

Jensen tried her best to keep him out of the room. “I, uhm, no that’s just Palomo. Crying.”

“Oh. Did Bitters say something mean to him again?”

“No, we, uhm, we just watched that sad movie with the dog and-“

Bitters could hear Matthews gasp. “ _Oh no_!”

“Yeah…” Jensen cleared her throat. “Bitters is, uhm, further down the hallway? Last time I saw him? Let’s try to find him.” Then she grabbed the Private by the arm and dragged him away from the room before he could even peek inside.

Bitters waited until he was sure they were far away from the doorway, then he snuck outside, just to head in the different direction. It seemed like the kitchen would be the right place to go. For now, at least.

“I really think you hate me,” he told the baby as he fled.

* * *

The numbers were still haunting Simmons’ brain. The measurements, the dates – and the terrifying amount of calculations that he just couldn’t get a hold on. The biology of aliens was nowhere near Grif’s – well, despite the fact that Grif’s constant hunger had always seemed too extreme to be normal.

And now- well, now Grif was just far from normal.

Grey had kicked him out – saying that he needed some rest. Oh, and that the Lieutenants needed some rest too.

Which was why Simmons was currently on his way to take the baby from them. Well, that and the fact he was currently crossing his fingers that the baby had survived the day relatively unscratched.

So when he stepped inside the room, only seeing Jensen and a sobbing Matthews and an empty baby blanket on the floor, it was hard not to panic. “Where is he?” he asked, staring at his Lieutenant for a response since Matthews was busy blowing his nose.

“Bitters has him! So don’t you worry Captain Simmons – he’s great with kids!”

“Alright. Okay.” He forced himself to inhale deeply and not wonder just _why_ Bitters was apparently capable of handling small children. “Where is he? And… What is wrong with Matthews?”

The Private continued to sob harder.

Jensen blushed just slightly. “Oh, well, we accidently discussed some poor movie choices, and perhaps I shouldn’t have brought up the one with the dog-“

“ _The dog_ ,” Matthews wailed into his handkerchief.

Jensen awkwardly patted his shoulder. “But we’re not talking about that anymore – and, well, then came the disappointed he didn’t get to see the baby.”

“I really want to see him,” Matthews hiccupped and wiped his eyes. “Whose- whose baby is it? I really want to congratulate them.”

“Uhmm…” Jensen looked at her Captain in panic but he was honestly too tired to deal with. “Why don’t we try to find the happy parents? While Captain Simmons can find some snacks in the kitchen.”

But he wasn’t tired enough to miss that hint. Jensen’s lisp seemed even more present when she lied. He nodded, already backing his way out of the room. “I’ll go find the snacks. For Grif. Grif likes snacks. I’ll find the snacks and give them to him.”

Simmons walked into the kitchen area, not really sure what to expect. A crying baby, surely. Maybe a crying Bitters. Definitely some sort of chaos. In worse case - a filled diaper.

He hadn’t expected to see Bitters feeding the baby with more ease than Simmons would ever be able to muster together. Simmons didn’t reveal his presence immediately, too amazed with how the baby looked more than happy and eagerly opened his mouth when the spoon came close enough.

And that was when Simmons noticed the baby wasn’t the only one opening his mouth.

Every time he led the spoon towards the infant, Bitters would open his own mouth, showing just what reaction he wanted from him. The sight was amusing enough to make Simmons smile, watching the scene quietly.

Eventually he came close enough to gain Bitters’ attention, and the Lieutenant’s head snapped towards him, frowning. “What?” he asked, continuing to move the spoon when the baby began to make upset noises.

“You’re…” Simmons cleared his throat, unable to look away from the scene. “You’re opening your mouth.”

“No, I’m not,” Bitters told him firmly. He then buried the spoon in the bowl of some kind of fruity-looking porridge before lifting it again and moving it closer to the awaiting baby – while unconsciously opening his own mouth. Simmons said nothing. The baby chewed happily with the few teeth he had. Bitters scowled. “Here. Take him.”

Simmons reluctantly switched places, and the baby tilted forwards to place its drool-covered hands on his chest plate.

Bitters snorted. “Right, I’m leaving.”

“But-“

“ _Not_ in my job description.”

And then he left.

Simmons was still looking at Bitters disappearing through the exit when the baby decided to let go of him, instead reaching out to grasp the edge of the bowl.

He babbled happily as the porridge spread as a puddle on the floor.

Simmons thought about the numbers again and wondered just how long it could take for a baby to become an adult – in the out of the ordinary way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credits to AlixAllgood for coming up with the idea about Bitters opening a baby stall.
> 
> I'm literally just having fun with this fic, though I actually promise you that some sorta action will appear. But let's stick with the fluff while we can.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. Stop, Drop and Roll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m getting the feeling that you don’t like babies.”
> 
> “Do you?” he asked, sarcastically, but the sarcasm seemed wasted when it was only met with silence. “Oh fuck. You _do_.”

Simmons opened his eyes. “Where’s the baby?” he asked, and in a second he was sitting upright in his bed, glaring at Tucker who’d just entered the room, still standing in the doorway.

“Why is that your first question?” the Blue wanted to know.

“Why are you in my room?” Simmons then asked, rubbing the last remains of sleep from his face. But it didn’t fix the bag under his eyes or his messy, red hair.

Finally daring to step closer to the bed, Tucker held out an arm to shove a bunch of papers into Simmons’ face. “Here,” he said, just before letting to, so that they fell into the cyborg’s lap.

Brows furrowed in annoyance, Simmons tried to get a hold of the stack. “What is this?” he asked before trying to understand the diagrams. ‘ _Trying’_ being the keyword in that sentence.

“Grey told me to give them to you. And by ‘told’, I mean ‘yelled’. Something about being that being the latest update from Santa.” He sat down on the desk, brushing away empty milk bottles and diaper packages. “So. Any good news?”

“I don’t know…” Simmons frowned, moving the paper closer to his face. “Grey has added some notes. It says ‘fascinating!’ and then there’s a happy smiley…”

“That means she knows what the fuck is going on, right?”

“No.” Simmons’ face had turned ashen at this point. “That means she has no idea of how to explain this. ‘Fascinating’ is just a complicated synonym for ‘too hard to understand but we’re keeping up the happy attitude’.”

“But she’s _Doctor Grey_! She understands everything.”

“I know.” Simmons gulped loudly, looking like he might faint. “We’re screwed.”

“It could be worse,” Tucker said, shrugging lightly.

“ _How_?!”

Tucker opened his mouth. “You-“

“Wait!” Simmons raised a hand, cutting him off. “ _Where is the baby_?” He jumped from the bed, considering throwing on some armor plates but eventually he just tried to straighten out the wrinkles on his civies with his palms.

“Didn’t you give him to the Lieutenants?” Tucker asked as he followed him into the hallway.

Simmons didn’t slow down to wait for him. “Yes, but…” His cyborg eye gave him the exact digits of the time, and he almost swallowed his tongue in unpleasant shock when he realized it was past midday. He barely remembered the evening before. There was only a faint memory of handing the baby over to the insisting Jensen before Simmons had crashed, dropping dead into his bed after too many nights with little to no sleep.

It should all be rather comforting. Sleeping the entire night, no baby wails in the morning, no filled diapers. Just handing the responsibility over to someone else. _In theory_ , it’d be good.

But…

“The Lieutenants have morning practice with Wash. They wouldn’t… They wouldn’t take the baby with them on the shooting field. Right?”

“Depends. Maybe they found that baby carrier.”

Simmons let out a loud whine, halting his steps to slam his forehead against the wall. “Where is he-“

“He’s with Grey.”

They both spun around to see Carolina at the other end of the hallway, observing them with a tilted head. Church appeared on her shoulder. “Did you have to tell him already? I think we were coming close to that heart attack.”

“He’s with Grey,” she says again, more firmly, so that some color could return to Simmons’ face. He sighed in relief.

But then a red eyebrow was raised. “Wait – how do you know that?”

“We… dropped him off there,” she said, suddenly lowering her glance while rubbing her neck.

“You had the baby?” Tucker asks before letting out a joyful exclamation. “You’re just as bad as Kimball.”

Carolina crossed her arms. “I’m not.”

“She is,” Church said. “It’s shameful.”

* * *

_Three hours earlier:_

 

“You should have said no.”

“I did,” Carolina reminded the AI. “I did say no.”

“You should have insisted.”

“I did insist.”

“Then how the fuck did you end up holding a baby?!”

Carolina did not have an answer for that. So she just kept rocking the baby back and forth, knowing she was only one mistake away from ear-piercing wails.

But even when she halted the motion, just keeping the baby still and pressed against the chest, it didn’t cry. It just looked at her, letting out some insensible noises every once in a while. Then it smiled.

“Something is wrong,” Carolina said.

“What?”

“It’s not crying.”

“And thank the fucking non-existing gods for that.”

“No.” Carolina stared right back at the baby’s brown eyes. “It’s a bad sign.”

Church spread out his arms. “ _How_?! How is a baby not crying a bad thing?”

“He must be sick,” Carolina muttered, frowning when it smiled again. “Epsilon, check it’s temperature.”

“ _Why_?!”

“Just do it.”

He flashed into existence near the baby’s forehead, barely avoiding the chubby hand reaching for him. “He’s _fine_ ,” he said again, glaring daggers at the baby. “Can we ditch him now?”

“Something is wrong,” Carolina muttered again, eyes moving towards the exit of the room. “We need to find Grey.”

* * *

“Oh, he’s fine,” Grey said before shoving him into Carolina’s arms again.

Church let his arms fell in despair when he realized he’d been too late to warn the agent. “Why?” he sighed dramatically, watching as Carolina started to rock him back and forth with shaky motions.

“Are you sure?” Carolina asked, for the fifteenth time. “He isn’t crying.”

“Well, there’s no reason for him to cry,” the doctor replied with a light shrug. “He’s well-fed, the diaper is clean, and he likes you! He’s quite comfortable, really.”

Carolina froze, eyes widening.

“Yo, Chorus to Carolina?” Church said, basically pressing his hologram into her face. When she finally blinked, he shrieked, “You let her get away!”

Carolina shook her head to gather her thoughts. “Who?”

“Grey! She fled the room!” Sure, she’d been muttering something about fetching the latest reports from Kimball, but that really was a shitty excuse when there currently was a baby in the room that really wasn’t their problem. “And now we’re stuck with _him_.”

“At least he isn’t crying,” Carolina said, adjusting her hold on the baby with stiff arms.

“Yeah,” the AI snorted. “ _At least_. Just put him in the crib so we can get out of here.”

Carolina nodded. The crib wasn’t much to look at – it was more like a temporary examination table Grey had put up when they’d found Grif in his current… state. But it was filled with blankets and had protective sides to keep the baby from falling down. It’d work.

Yet, as she hovered over the crib, she just froze.

“Just drop it,” Church suggested.

“What?”

“Drop it.”

“I can’t do that,” she huffed.

“ _Drop him_ ,” Church ordered her again. “Drop him and run.”

“He’ll cry,” Carolina said. She knew this as a fact. She’d heard the rumors from the others. She’d even head the baby’s wails through metal walls, often followed by Simmons’ sighs of despair. As much as she wanted to put the baby in the crib, she knew it would trigger an alarm.

Church moved so he was in front of her face. “And that’s why we run! C’mon. I’ve seen you drop grenades five thousand fucking times. It’s the same thing!”

“And really isn’t.”

“And I disagree. Let’s let go of him to find out who’s right.”

“Are you planning to kill a baby, Epsilon?”

He crossed his arms. “No. I’m planning for you to leave it in the goddamn crib so that we can get a move on and spend our time on literally anything else than being the Reds’ shitty babysitter.”

“I’m getting the feeling that you don’t like babies.”

“Do you?” he asked, sarcastically, but the sarcasm seemed wasted when it was only met with silence. “Oh fuck. You _do_.”

“It’s Grif,” Carolina said firmly. “The least we can do is keep him alive until he’s… normal.”

“Can we please stop using that word?” Church hissed. “Drop him.” 

* * *

“She held him,” Church told them all, the dismay visible in his voice, “for twenty-seven minutes.”

Simmons didn’t know what to say. So he said nothing.

Tucker, on the other hand, smacked his lips. “Wow.”

“You weren’t there,” Carolina defended himself.

“And he’s _your_ problem,” Church said, glaring at Simmons.

The cyborg found his voice, stuttering just slightly, “He’s-“

“Wait,” Tucker said, cutting them both off before a real argument could break out. “I was in Grey’s office, like, ten minutes ago, and there was no baby.”

“What?” Carolina said.

“What?” Simmons said.

And they both looked at each other, puzzled by their timing.

“Perfect!” Church said, voice turning oddly light. “Now he’s someone else’s problem-“

“We have to find him,” Simmons said, already walking down the hallway. “Maybe- maybe Jensen has him!”

* * *

“I don’t have him,” Jensen told him. “I’m sorry, Captain Simmons, but I gave him to Agent Carolina and I thought-“

* * *

"No,” Donut said. “I haven’t seen him all day! And I’ve even been looking for him! I found this _fabulous_ outfit that-“

* * *

“No,” Lopez said. “No.”

* * *

Bitters glared at him. “Why the fuck should I know where he is?”

* * *

“No, but I wish I had!” Palomo said before shoving a book with blank pages into his face. “I’ve been working on this scrapbook all day!”

* * *

“Have you asked Jensen? She was the last person I remember holding him,” Smith suggested. It was a good advice. Too bad Simmons had already asked his Lieutenant.

* * *

“Caboose, have you seen Gri- _the baby_?” Simmons asked and he sighed in relief when Caboose’s answer was no. He wanted to find the baby, but for some reason the image of Caboose alone with a fragile human being was somewhat unnerving.

* * *

And that left…

 

“Sarge!” Simmons could not help but exclaim when he stepped into the armory to see the Sergeant. With the baby. In his arms. Unharmed and swaddled in a red blanket.

Hearing his soldier’s voice, Sarge’s head snapped towards him while the rest of his body froze. “Simmons,” he barked. “I require your assistance.”

“Yes, sir,” Simmons said, coming to a halt close enough to the Sergeant that he could look down at the baby who was staring calmly at him.

“I’ve been tricked! Deceived! The pin of the grenade has been released, and now I can’t let go or I’ve doomed us all.” Sarge glared at the baby, knowing it’d cry if he put him down. “It was a trap! Presumably set by the Blues, of course. Only they would be devious enough to leave a baby- _an explosion_ waiting to happen in the middle of nowhere, knowing it’d lure strong-hearted Reds into doing their civilian duty and pick it up!”

“…Do you want me to take him, sir?” Simmons offered, reaching out with his hands.

Sarge let out a thoughtful huff.


	6. (Baby) Don't Hurt Me

“Stop eating your foot,” Simmons told the baby sternly, adjusting its position gently until it straightened out its back and let go of its foot. The cyborg sat behind it, holding its weight.

With his free hand he held out a picture, dangling it in front of the little, chubby face. The picture was old and worn – it’d been years since Blood Gulch. But the image itself was easy enough to recognize – Simmons and Grif standing next each other, the cyborg with a straight back and hand raised in a salute, while the Hawaiian had his shoulder slumped as he flipped off the camera.

“Look at this,” Simmons said, keeping his tone cheerful because that was how you got children’s attention. Right? At least, that was how it worked with dogs. He tapped the picture with a metal finger. “This is you. And you’re- you’re all grown up and you can- you can drive a car! Don’t you wanna drive a car? If you turn back, you get to drive a car! Doesn’t that make you want to turn back?”

The baby tilted forward to drool on the image.

“Don’t eat the picture!” Simmons said as he pulled him backwards. “I swear to god, Grif, if you’re choosing to stay like this just to get extra naps…”

One tiny, chubby hand was placed on top of Grif’s faded face.

Simmons gasped in pleasant excitement. “Yes, that is you! Do you- do you feel anything? Any change?” He was babbling as bad as the baby at this point. “It’s- it’s fine! We’ll just wait and eventually- _Soon!_  I mean, _soon_ , you’ll be back. Soon.”

* * *

  _One month later._

“Please,” Simmons begged, letting the baby chew on the corner of the photograph out of pure desperation, “just look at the picture.”

* * *

Simmons’ face was pressed against the desk when someone shook his shoulder. He straightened out his back with a sleepy grunt and pretended to not just have covered his datapad in saliva.

“Uhm, Simmons?” Donut said, sounding awfully nervous. When Simmons noticed that he was wringing his hands, he gulped. “We have a small… problem.”

“Oh no,” Simmons said, wiping off dried saliva with the back of his hand, before following Donut out of his bedroom, towards Grey’s office with quick steps.

“ _Oh no_ ,” Simmons said again, when he became aware of how dire the situation was.

The baby was placed in the basket carrier on top of the desk, waiting for Doctor Grey to appear, though the baby itself was unaware that it was time for its daily check-up. He wasn’t even crying today – though, this was probably because of the blanket it was holding tightly onto with its little hand, chewing the corner with a smile.

The blanket.

That was soft.

And currently wet with saliva.

And, as the most important fact, very, very, brightly blue.

Donut whimpered before letting out a wail, “He’s going to break Sarge’s heart!” He kept up a happy façade, fishing another blanket out of his back pocket and tried to squeeze it between the chubby fingers. “C’mon little guy! What about the red blanket? Don’t you like the red blanket? It matches your complexion way better and-“

The moment the blue blanket was torn out of its grip, the baby screamed.

Church flickered near Tucker’s helmet. “Jesus Christ, give him back the blue blanket before he breaks my eardrums.” Despite the Blues always insisting that the baby was the Reds’ problem, which – things considered – probably was the truth, Donut had managed to convince them to stay while he brought emotional backup in the shape of Simmons for this disaster.

“Why do you have to be this way?” Simmons wailed as he watched the baby chew happily on his new favorite toy.

“Maybe this is a good sign!” Tucker suggested helpfully. “Maybe he’s getting some of his memories back and he remembers just how much you guys suck!”

“ _Or_ ,” Church cut in, _“_ he just falls in love with the first object you shake in front of his face because baby’s brains are too small to be any less idiotic.”

“No shit – that’s the only reason why he seems to like you,” Tucker spat at him.

“Why should I care?” The AI crossed its arms. “I don’t like that thing.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that by the way?” Tucker asked him. “I know that Caboose hates babies, and you just hate everything, but still.”

“Hey, the joke is on you guys, because when Grif gets back to his – and this is a great misuse of the word by the way – ‘ _normal’_ self, you’re going to be the ones wailing about how much you miss the damn baby, while _I_ will be the only one sane enough to remember this thing is not permanent. So boo-fucking-hoo when your hearts break. Remember to have your Kleenex ready.”

When the AI shut its mouth, the room was left in an awkward silence, save for the muffled babbling as the baby sucked the blanket’s corner.

Simmons was staring at the floor, while Donut suddenly became interested in his fingernails, never looking up.

It was Tucker who broke the silence. “Any news from Santa?”

Simmons shifted the weight on his feet. “Yesterday Grey said we have to keep waiting.”

“Uhm, guys…?” Donut said, looking over his shoulders.

Watching the baby blabber nonsense to his blanket, Tucker sighed. “At this rate, we’ll be waiting for twenty-five years and then the problem has almost solved itself. In a very, very slow way. Oh, and we’re like middle-aged and I don’t want to experience that.”

“ _Guys_ -“

But Donut’s warning came too late.

Before anyone could stop the disaster from escalating, Sarge stepped into the room, looking down at the baby with a dissatisfied huff.

There was silence.

And then he asked, “What’s this?”

“Sarge,” Simmons whimpered, unsure what to say next.

Apparently, the others shared his hesitation, as no one opened their mouth while the Sergeant glared down the baby.

“When did the Blues get a baby?” he asked, lifting his piercing eyes to stare at Tucker instead.

The Blue blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Are you Blues truly incapable of coming up with a single original plan? Have you- My god, did you finally shrink Caboose’s body to match his brain? You bastards. Those muscles were his only obvious purpose for existence-“

“ _Why_ _the actual fuck_ is your first explanation to your own self-caused confusion that _we_ , for a reason that I can’t even begin to guess, would turn _Caboose_ into a baby?” Church shrieked so loudly that it stole the baby’s attention, and two big brown eyes looked up at him. Church ignored it.

“How else would you explain this babbling baby swaddled in pure disgrace?!”

“You’re looking at Red Team’s disgrace swaddled in a blue blanket,” Church told him dryly. “That’s right, Sarge, Grif prefers blue.”

“Didn’t we agree not to use his name?” Simmons hissed before turning towards Sarge. His tone grew softer, more apologetic. “And I’m sure it’s just a phase, Sarge! Just give him time and he’ll drop the stupid idea and-“

“Maybe we just didn’t know him that well. We should have seen this coming. And now – the only thing we can do is to give him our full support!” Smiling brightly, Donut hovered above the carrier, “We still love you and this won’t change anything-“

Simmons stepped in front of him to block the pitiful sight from their Sergeant. “I’m sure it’s not that serious, Sarge! He played with the red car just yesterday!” he said, laughing nervously. “He probably just thinks it’s the Blue flag! And that he’s claimed it! By shedding his bacteria-filled saliva all over it! If we just-“

A baby’s furious scream cut him off, indicating a certain blanket had been taken from his hands.

Donut regretted his action a moment afterwards, apologizing as he let the baby get its will.

“I have to go,” Sarge suddenly told them, sounding strangely choked. “Helmet malfunction. Visor is getting fuzzy.”

Before Simmons could ask into it, and before Donut could offer emotionally support, Sarge left the room, muttering something about mutiny under his breath.

Sighing, Simmons turned to tell the baby, “Great job.”

* * *

“Goods news!” Grey said, after she’d finally arrived and after she’d finished the examination.

Her words nearly gave Simmons a heart-attack. The good kind, caused by unexpected but pleasant news. “Really?” he asked, sounding too hopeful.

Grey nodded. “Well, he’s following the statistics of a seven-months old! And his health seems flawless.”

Simmons’ face fell. “Is that the good news?”

“I could have been telling you he had chickenpox, so I think we should be satisfied with the good news we can get for now.”

“Yeah, let’s all pretend he isn’t a bundle of bacteria just waiting to spread,” Church muttered, however, when Grey asked for his help to sort Santa’s latest data, he agreed to stay behind.

The others went to the hallway, Simmons carrying the carrier with his metal hand, where Donut found a way to flee. He smiled nervously as he said, “I should go check on Sarge. He seems like he’s in the need of a gentle touch. And I’ve never been afraid of a man’s tears before!”

“Well, I’m off to meet Wash,” Tucker said when it was just the two of them plus a baby left. He turned around to walk down the hallway, but Simmons quickly followed him.

“Oh noo- I’m _not_ gonna miss another training session because _someone_ -“ He stared down at the baby, “-refuses to sleep. For a reason I can’t even attempt to guess.”

“He’s asleep now,” Tucker pointed, and he was right.

The baby was quiet, eyes closed, face pressed against the turned-on walkie-talkie they used as a baby alarm in lack of any better alternative. Donut had offered to be the one to carry around the other walkie-talkie, strapped to his thigh.

These days, it wasn’t about leaving the baby outside and then listening for any crying. It was more like leaving the baby out of sight for a moment, and then using the walkie-talkie to track down whoever had, with good intentions, picked up the seemingly helpless baby.

It… happened a lot more often than it should. Usually he was found with one of the Lieutenants or Freelancers or, in a rare occasion, Kimball.

They stayed quiet as they walked, not wanting to wake him up again. Simmons wanted what little rest he could get – or, as in this case, use that moment of rest to train instead.

But as they passed through the motor pool, Tucker suddenly said, “It could be worse.”

He wasn’t even looking at Simmons, but the cyborg knew who he was talking to. And that one single sentence was enough to piss him off, especially when he’d just been busy mentally planning the rest of the day – when the prepare the bottle, when to check the diaper…

“ _How_?!” he hissed. “How could this be worse, Tucker?!”

“You know-“

“No, I don’t know!” He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “This- It’s not Grif, Tucker! It’s not really Grif! I haven’t seen Grif in _a month_ , and I- I don’t know if I’m going to see him again.”

“Dude, don’t-“

Wanting to spread out his arms to put emphasis on his point, Simmons placed the carrier on the back of a jeep that was currently being loaded with supplies, ready to be sent to the more distant points they’d secured in their fight against the mercs.

Now able to flail his arms around, pointing at Tucker in blame, Simmons continued, “And- and everyone just seems to have settled with plan B, and that- that we can just raise him because our lives are so freaking crazy that we can just _ignore_ the absurdity in this. That, sure, we can raise him! We can do that! It’s not like the majority of us have fucked up childhoods and don’t know how parenthood work, and none of that fucking matters because even when we screw up, chances are it’d still be better than what Grif actually grew up with, and that’s sad, Tucker! And I’m sad because I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing and none of us do and none of you are being sad!”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Tucker said, being a remarkably calm contrast to the shrieking Simmons.

“ _No_. You’re all just… dealing with the bullshit.”

“And that’s what we’re supposed to do!”

“No!” Simmons buried his hands in his hair, pulling at it in frustraton. “Yes! I… _This isn’t right_.”

“Nobody said that!”

“ _You_ just did!”

“No, I said it could be worse.”

“ _How_?!”

“He could be dead,” Tucker explained, voice almost soft. When the words had left his mouth, they both fell quiet, just staring at each other. It was quiet, except the low hum of the jeep being turned on and the wheels moving as it slowly drove outside. Tucker crossed his arms. “That’s a thing that happens, you know. People gong on missions and just… not coming back. Happens a lot, actually. So yeah. I think it could be worse. I mean, the tower could also have turned _all_ of you Reds into babies. Which would count for a global disaster, of course.”

“It doesn’t… it doesn’t count,” Simmons said when he found his voice. He resisted the urge to slam his foot against the floor. “It’s not Grif.”

“It’ll be eventually,” Tucker said in what could be sign as a comfort, if any of them – besides Donut and Caboose – would admit to have feelings. He shrugged. “It’s better than nothing.”

Simmons bit his lip. “That’s easy for you to say. I haven’t slept in days.”

“Yeah. I can tell. So… stressed.”

“I almost put on two different socks today,” Simmons admitted gingerly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh god, the disaster,” Tucker snorted sarcastically as they began to walk out of the motor pool. If they were late at the training session, he didn’t even dare to imagine how big a breakdown Simmons would suffer then.

Simmons nodded eagerly, adding, “Yesterday I almost forgot to put on socks!”

“You’re a mess.”

“I know,” Simmons said as they stepped into the hallway empty-handed. “I hate being forgetful.” 

* * *

“I spy something… green.”

“Seriously, man, that game stopped being funny an hour ago.”

Two Feds had been given the job of driving the jeep. It was an easy job, really. Prepare a jeep, fill it with crates, then hurry up and drive through the jungle towards the valley entrance where soldiers had been positioned, now in need of supplies.

They’d left in such a hurry, they hadn’t even notice the extra cargo that had accidently been placed in the back.

“Well, we still have one hour left.”

The driver sighed before giving in. “A tree.”

“Right. Your turn.”

“I’m not playing the game.”

“I’ll take your turn then. I spy something-“

“Shut up.”

“C’mon. Don’t be such a-“

“No, seriously, keep your mouth shut,” he hissed, actually daring the look over his shoulder while the jeep moved forward. “Can’t you hear that? Sounds like someone is crying. Sounds like a… baby?”

“Great. We’re in a hunted forest again.”

“We should probably check that out,” he muttered, boot hovering above the brake.

“Uhm, Philip, I spy something glinting-“

“Just stop the jeep and let me check-“

“Looks like a snipe-“

_Bang._

_Bang_.

Felix was the first one to reach the jeep, knocking some dirt of his gloves as he gave the vehicles a few pats. “Welp. Looks like Chorus’ little army won’t be needing those supplies.” He watched as Locus and the two men they’d brought along crept out from the jungle, stepping away from their cover, to reach the supplies as well.

The orange armored man stood back, crossing his arms, as they checked the crate. “Please tell me we hit something good this time. Setting shit on fire is only fun the first five times- Who am I kidding? I can’t wait for this entire shithole to go into flames.”

“Felix,” Locus said, voice unreadable.

He was hidden behind the tower of crates at the back of the jeep, but his tone was enough to get Felix’ interest who turned his head towards the sound. “What? Let me guess- Ammo? Foo- _A baby_ ,” he spat in surprise when Locus stepped into his vision, a carrier in his hand – and inside of it, a crying baby. “Are you shitting me?”

Locus didn’t respond but held up a single walkie-talkie for Felix to hear. While Locus was the mercenary who’d spent most time with Donut, Felix recognized the voice as well. It made the corner of his mouth creep upwards, just slightly.

“ _-I’m telling you, I’m sure I just heard someone on the other line. Uhm, hello? Did you by any chance see a baby? About this tall and very cute?”_

Locus threw the walkie-talkie at his partner who caught it with ease.

 _“His name is Grif- Don’t worry, Simmons,_ everyone _knows by now. Rumors and tell-tales can’t be stopped. Well, if you see the baby, that is Captain Grif and we really, really need him back. You don’t have to call him Captain, though, and we’re not really sure if he responds to Grif- But please respond if you have him so we can pick him up before you end up in charge of the diaper change.”_

Felix was grinning when he clicked the button, allowing him to answer the call. “Oh, do I really want to know the story to all this?”

There was a loud gulp on the other end before Donut seemed to find his voice. _“…Oh noooo-“_

“Don’t you worry. Apparently, Grif is -“ Felix spun around to add a darker tone to his voice, though his expression seemed to freeze when he saw Locus carrying the baby with his hands, by mistake holding it close enough for it to reach out and place both chubby, tiny hands on his visor.

Felix tilted his head before finishing his sentence. “…in very good hands.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame Creatrix for this ending. She knows what she has done.
> 
> Also, the last chapter inspired Creatrix and she made this awesome drawing! Be sure to check it out! http://creatrixanimi.tumblr.com/post/173346431747/i-just-found-this-doodle-i-drew-like-3-weeks-ago


	7. Unfortunate

The baby had kept screaming. It had been crying ever since they’d reached one of the guarded hideouts.

The looks the pirates had sent them had been enough for Felix to threaten to shoot some brains out if they didn’t mind their own business.

Eventually Felix had asked Locus to deal with it.

”I told you to gag him,” Felix said, staring at the scene with eyes widened in disbelief.

He’d walked into the kitchen to find his fellow mercenary carefully feeding the baby mashed apples with a spoon.

“You told me to keep him quiet,” Locus corrected calmly while lifting the silverware again. The baby’s eyes followed his hands carefully, mouth opening by instinct. “Infants will scream when they are hungry.”

For a moment Felix stared at him.

Then he threw his head back and laughed.

“I can’t believe this,” he said, pacing back and forth again to somewhat relieve his mind. His head snapped towards his partner. “I didn’t ask you to be a nanny.”

Locus exhaled through his nose. “You said-“

“All you lack is the apron,” Felix cut him off, smiling smugly though his eyes didn’t look happy. He laughed again – a cold, rough sound. “Oh this is too good. I can’t believe that a _baby_ of all things-“

“Enough,” Locus said, and his harsh voice as enough to make the baby stop blabbering for a few seconds. Locus looked at it for a moment, until it dared to move its hands again, reaching for the spoon, and then Locus faced Felix instead, “You asked me to deal with a problem. If you prefer to do it yourself-“

Without hesitating, the orange mercenary moved forward, picked up the baby and held it up in front of his face.

His eyes narrowed.

The baby reached out with a chubby hand, saliva dripping from its lower lip, but Felix held it out of reach.

Locus left his chair but didn’t moved towards him.

And then Felix laughed again. “Chorus is so messed up,” he said, tilting his head as he looked over the former Captain who was now drooling, eyes wide and curious. “No wonder people are willing to pay a shitload a cash for it.” Felix kept up his smile as he leaned closer to the baby. “Now the question is how much the idiots are willing to pay for you.”

A second later, the baby opened its mouth to cover him with half-digested apple mash.

One of the pirates that had been guarding the entrance of the room slapped a hand over his visor, as if that could muffle his choked laughter.

Felix inhaled sharply, turning his head slowly to glare at Locus. “It just puked on me.”

It took Locus four long seconds to reply. “How unfortunate.”

“Are you laughing at me?” Felix asked, voice dangerously low.

Locus took a step towards him, replying a bit too slowly, “No.”

“That’s it.” Tilting his head to the left, then to the right, Felix glared at the baby in his hands again. ”I’m going to drop you now,” he announced casually.

“Don’t.”

Eyes small as slits, Felix shook his head, snarling at Locus, “You are enjoying yourself too much-“

“Infants are fragile,” Locus said calmly.

“I know! Which is why you haven’t seen me use my dagger yet!” He breathed in, voice calmer as he continued, “C’mon. Don’t say you didn’t already think he’d been dropped on his head as a child?”

“When beings are fragile, they die easily. A hostage needs to stay alive.”

The baby began to cry softly.

Finally, Felix let out a dissatisfied grunt. “Here,” he said, shoving the infant back into Locus’ arms with little care. “Play nanny all you want. As long as you don’t stay soft.”

Locus growled lowly, adjusting his grip so he didn’t drop the baby by accident. “This is your idea,” he reminded his partner.

“It is! Hey, don’t think of this as a kidnapping.” Felix sent him a wide, cold smile. “We found a baby in the woods and took care of it. We’re the good guys! Technically.”

Locus didn’t reply to that. Instead he grunted again when the baby placed a saliva-covered hand on his chest plate, cooing happily.

 “Aw,” Felix said in mockery. “He likes you.”

“It’s an infant,” Locus replied.

Felix shrugged, turning to leave the room. “Just remember we’re getting paid to kill the Sim Troopers. All of them.” He nodded towards the baby in his arms. “So don’t get attached.”

When his partner left the room, Locus lowered his head and sighed very, very deeply.

The baby burped.

Not willing to experience the same punishment as Felix, Locus placed the baby in the carrier they’d found him in. The moment he let go, big fat tears started to run down the baby's cheeks.

Before the noises could grow loud enough to gain Felix’ attention, Locus saw the blue fabric next to the head covered in soft, brown hair. He reached down and placed the worn fabric in the chubby hands.

The crying stopped.

Locus looked at it for a moment before handing the carrier to the nearest pirate. “Keeps its needs satisfied,” he ordered.

* * *

The problem:

The moment Locus stepped out of its sight, the crying began again. Louder this time.

Loud enough to be heard all around the base.

Fours hours later, Felix snapped.

Slamming the door open, he entered the room, causing the frightened pirate to drop the carrier on the floor.

“Okay,” Felix growled. “Either it will shut up or I’ll be cutting out its tongue.”

Locus was right behind him, crossing his arms as he said, “That would be inefficient.” They both stopped in front of the carrier, looking down at the crying baby. “Infants scream from pain as well as hunger.”

“YOU _JUST_ FED IT!”

“Hours ago. If it needs-“

“Who cares?!” Felix clenched his hands, looking like he might lash out with a kick. “Keep it quiet.”

After a few seconds where Locus stared at Felix intensely, he turned his head and kneeled down to pick up the baby instead.

It cried softly in the beginning, squirming, before apparently finding a comfortable spot. It fell quiet and yawned.

“ _Thank you_ ,” Felix said after a few seconds where he’d just enjoyed the silence. “Do they even know what they’re asking for? I mean – _really_? Who is willing to pay for a screaming vomit-machine?” Watching the baby sleep calmly in Locus’ arms, he snorted and asked, “Why does it like you? Wait – don’t answer that. I prefer to live without that knowledge.”

Locus did wwhat he was told and didn’t answer the question.

“The Sim Troopers and their Freelancers show up tomorrow at noon to trade over the baby,” Felix let him know. “Please keep me from killing it before then.” 

* * *

 “Bwah,” the baby said, reaching for the spoon.

“No,” Locus said, pushing it between his lips and watched the baby eat happily.

* * *

  “Mweh,” the baby said, giggling when it reached for the blue fabric in Locus’ hand.

“No,” Locus said before giving him the toy.

* * *

“Blarg,” the baby said, rolling over to lie on his stomach.

“No,” Locus said, pulling it away from the grenades Felix had abandoned carelessly on the table.

* * *

Without his helmet, the smell reached his nostrils with no warning. It could only mean one thing.

The baby cooed at him.

“No,” Locus said and sighed.

* * *

Locus has finally fallen asleep, back on the mattress, facing the ceiling. He’d hoped for a few hours of sleep, knowing tomorrow’s meeting would not be pretty. Felix had kept talking about how he would stab Wash in the back, but face Tucker while he slowly cut him in pieces.

Meanwhile Locus had been thinking about just how hard the Freelancers would be willing to fight with a hostage’s life on the line.

A chubby hand was placed on his cheek, narrowly missing his eye as the baby crawled away from his part of the bed.

“No,” Locus told him.

* * *

“No,” Locus said again when the baby began to cry.

With a sigh he turned over and put on his helmet. 4am, the HUD informed him.

He frowned behind his visor. The crying had annoyed Felix during the day. His reaction would only be worse if he was woken up by it in the middle of the night.

He still had 8 hours left where he had to keep the baby alive.

So he abandoned his bed, picked up the infant, allowing it to keep its blanket while it rested in his arms in the hopes that it would keep it quiet on the way to the kitchen to soothe its hunger again.

It worked.

The baby didn’t say a sound as Locus walked down the hallway.

The silence made the following noises echo:

The unmistaken sound of the click of a gun.

And the voice of Agent Carolina telling him, “Hand. Over. The baby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame Creatrixanimi. She knows what she's done. She made me change the entire plot (this fic didn't originally include Felix and Locus) because of a sweet drawing she did of babyGrif and Locus.


	8. Little Boy Red

“I won’t repeat myself,” Carolina growled, gun pointed straight at the back of Locus’ head.

Hands filled with a babbling baby, Locus had no choice but to turn around, eyes narrowed as he revealed his face.

For a second, Carolina just stared at the baby, a sigh of relief leaving her lips when she saw that he was unharmed. The baby’s eyes were tired and he had a hand tangled into Locus’ night shirt, unwilling to let go.

But then she lifted her glance, saw the scars in the shape of an _X_ , just like Locus’ helmet…

“You…” she said, mouth falling open in shock as the realization hit her. “Oh my god.”

Church appeared on her shoulder, looking just as surprised by the fact that they were currently facing Locus. In a pajama. And with morning hair and bags under his eyes. And a happy baby in his arms. “Holy shit.”

“Hand him over _now_ ,” Carolina sneered with more urgency this time, tightening her grip on her gun.

But the weapon also proved to be an obstacle for her, and Locus knew of this. He glared at the gun, knowing she needed the weapon in order to keep him from attacking, but on the other hand she needed her hands free to accept the baby. “How so?” he asked calmly, knowing the two of them were in a stalemate.

Carolina narrowed her eyes at the look on his face. “Don’t try anything.”

“I’d recommend you do the same,” he replied coldly, keeping his expression straight even as a small hand began to play with his hair. “The hallways are very quiet.”

And they both knew that could change in a second. A yell, an alarm. A gunshot. A baby crying.

“Sure they are,” she said. “Because we snuck in undetected. Bitters.” Nodding her head slightly, she signaled the Lieutenant to step out of the shadows further down the hallway.

Bitters kept his eyes on Locus as he walked, stopping right next to Carolina with his arms open.

“Hand him over,” the Freelancer said again, keeping her finger on the trigger.

Not wanting a bullet between his eyes, Locus did as he was ordered. The baby let out a whine as he was pulled away from the long, black hair, and the tears began to appear in his eyes as Bitters pressed him against his chest in a secure grip.

 “Stop it,” Church hissed as it began to hiccup with small sobs.

“Epsilon,” Carolina warned him, never taking her eyes off Locus.

“He’s going to wake up the entire place!”

Locus’ lips twitched at Church’s words, and she realized that was exactly what he was planning at. Carolina took a step backwards, knowing they had to get out of the place before Felix or guards would realize what was going on.

Bitters did his beat to cheer up the baby, bouncing him in his arms. “Give him the blanket,” he said, knowing it was his favorite toy.

“It’s not here. It’s-“

They all turned their head towards Locus, suddenly noticing what was still clenched in his fist.

“The blanket,” Carolina growled at him. “Now.”

The baby let out a sob loud enough for Carolina to turn her head, worried it’d attract attention.

The distraction was the moment Locus needed to kick the gun out of her hand, making it slide down the hallway.

Before she could dive for it, Locus pulled a knife from the waistband of his pajama pants.

“Oh thank god,” Church sighed in relief as Locus revealed the bulge to be a weapon. “I thought he was happy to see you.”

Then the mercenary leapt at her, knife ready. With his quick motions and strength, he managed to force her down the hallway, but Carolina had the advantage of wearing power armor, and when she punched him, she could see him grimace in pain.

Church hovered close to her helmet, trying to spot a weakness for them to use to take him down properly.

“Deal with him!” Carolina hissed while avoiding a kick to her torso.

Church flickered as Locus’ fist went through him. “I am!”

“No, deal with the baby!”

“ _What_?!”

The baby was crying in Bitters’ arms, sobs growing louder and louder every second.

“ _Church_.”

With a groan, the AI did what he was told, placing himself right above the baby, within reach of the chubby arms.

“Hi! Look at me. Look at me you little- _Argh_. What do you want me to do? Dance? Do you want me to dance? You like that, huh. You like that, you tiny piece of shit. Why do you like it when I insult you, what the fuck?”

“I think he’s just used to it,” Bitter said, shrugging.

“You’re fucked up,” Church told the baby firmly but was satisfied when the baby stopped crying, watching him with big and curious eyes instead. “He likes me!”

Carolina made Locus stumble backwards with a punch to the face, and she watched in satisfaction how the blood began to flow from his nose. “Kidnapping a baby?” she said, keeping her breathing in check. “That’s a new low.”

“Contrary to abandoning it,” he said, wiping the blood away with his hand.

The Freelancer lunged at him, and with a spinning kick and an armored foot to the chin, Locus was knocked to the floor and he didn’t get up.

Carolina looked down at him, breathing heavily as she took in the sight of her victory.

And then she realized Locus had never attempted to alert the base by himself.

Leaning down, she tore the blue blanket out of Locus’ grip. “Here,” she said, handing it to Bitters who proceeded to give it to the baby, sighing in relief when he saw how it had a calming effect immediately. “We need to move now.”

The baby whined softly as they turned away from Locus, reaching out with a chubby hand before Bitters tucked him back against his chest in a safe embrace. “Can you brainwash a baby?” he asked as he followed the Freelancer back to safety.

* * *

“This was a bad idea,” Simmons said as he paced back and forth.

Tucker sat on a nearby rock, watching for any movement in the distance. Knowing they were supposed to meet with Felix in the morning, they knew his snipers and spies would keep their eyes on them to ensure they wouldn’t try anything.

And knowing Simmons would never leave Grif out of his sight (usually. Mistakes happened. It wasn’t his fault, he swore!), all eyes would be on him.

Which was why Carolina chose to go in alone. No fellow Freelancers or Captains.

But she’d needed an extra pair of hands.

Bitters hadn’t exactly volunteered, but he’d stopped protesting quickly.

“I didn’t have any ideas, Tucker,” Simmons muttered, wringing his hands.

Tucker shrugged. “Which meant your idea was to scream and panic.”

“We are talking about _Felix_ kidnapping a baby, Tucker. It’s an appropriate time to scream.”

Tucker had opened his mouth to respond to that, but then he noticed the lights of a Warthog in the distance. “Here they come,” he said before both he and Simmons moved to meet with the others are a secure location further into the forest.

Carolina sent Simmons a calming smile as Bitters handed him the baby.

“He fell asleep five minutes ago,” she said as the maroon soldier let out a relieved sigh.

“Ohmygod, thank you.” He held him in a tight embrace, hugging him against his chest. “Never, ever do that again.”

“Dude, you were the one who forgot about him,” Tucker pointed out but he was smiling as well.

Simmons sent him a glare while rubbing the baby’s back in calming circles. “We should minimize his trauma by never speaking of this again-”

“Just left him behind in the motorpool-“

“-and just ignore that this thing ever happened.” When the baby woke up to smack a hand against his cheek, Simmons sighed softly, “I missed you too.”

Carolina was keeping her distance, watching the reunion with a smile, and Wash moved over to stand next to her. “Did you run into any troubles at the base?” he said, trying to act casual to hide the fact he’d been pacing back and forth as well the last two hours.

“Despite Locus in a pajama?” Carolina said dryly.

Wash raised an eyebrow. “Wait, what?”

“I also thought he’d be the kind of guy to sleep in boxer shorts,” Donut said as he took pictures of Simmons and the baby.

Carolina blinked. “And suddenly I feel very grateful for what we ran into.”

“So no one saw Locus’ abs?” Donut asked her, not even trying to hide his disappointment.

“I still think I should have gone with you,” Wash told his teammate, knowing Locus, no matter what he was wearing, was a threat.

“I needed you out here,” she said briefly. She then frowned, remembering something from earlier. “He could have tried to alert the base. But he didn’t.”

“Maybe he wanted a fair fight?” Wash suggested, though it didn’t sound like he believed in that himself.

“Without armor against me?” she snorted, remembering the satisfying feeling of Locus’ nose beneath her fist.

“At least it ended well,” Wash said but then needed to add, “As well as it can be, without Grif being… Grif.”

They left the Sim Troopers alone, letting them have their reunion, and after arriving at Armonia, Simmons thanked her over and over before excusing himself, saying he needed to get Grif back to his crib.

Carolina watched them go, breathing in deeply.

She couldn’t sleep herself, the adrenalin still strong in her body. She spent the rest of her night drinking cups of coffee, unable to wipe the frown off her face.

In the early morning, Wash showed up to sit down next to her. She wordlessly handed him a cup which he accepted.

After swallowing the coffee that had now turned cold, he finally spoke. “Carolina, have you thought about what we have to do if Santa is wrong?” he asked quietly, turning his head to make sure they were the only one in the cafeteria.

“I suppose we continue doing what we do now,” she answered quietly.

“Don’t you think that maybe-“ Wash bit his lip, considering his own words. “That maybe we should find a place for the baby? Look, you know I believe in the guys, and they are trying their best, I’m sure, but maybe a war _and_ a baby are too much to burden them with. For Grif’s- the baby’s sake, and their own, maybe we should arrange something before more mistakes happen.”

Carolina furrowed her brows. She put down her cup before facing him, eyes tired but honest. “Raising a child will never be flawless. You make mistakes and you learn from them because you will try your best because you care, and it will be a mess and it will be hard, and it can never be perfect, but when you try – and they will try – I think-“

“Grif is back to normal!” Tucker yelled from the doorway before sprinting through the rest of Chorus to spread the news.

Carolina ran a hand down her face. “ _Oh thank God_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to check out creatrix's amazing cartoon of what she thought would happen in this chapter (and that I was very inspired of): http://creatrixanimi.tumblr.com/post/175424659422/ok-so-i-had-to-draw-this-after-the-newest-chapter


	9. And the Man on the Moon

When Simmons went to sleep the baby was lying safely in Grif’s bed, a pacifier in his mouth and the blue blanket in his hand.

Simmons stroke the dark hair softly to make sure he was fast asleep. He tucked him in and peeked warily over his shoulder before heading to bed himself.

When Simmons opened his eyes, he noticed three things:

Grif was in the bed.

Grif was an adult again.

Grif was naked.

Simmons screamed.

The sound was enough for the Grif to jolt awake, head turning towards Simmons. For a moment his eyes were wide open and alert, until he saw that Simmons was unharmed and seemingly not suffering from a nightmare. Then the exhaustion filled his eyes again and they narrowed as Grif understood that Simmons was terrified by his lack of clothes.

“C’mon, Simmons,” he muttered into his pillow as he turned around to continue sleeping. “Half of the junk is yours anyway.”

A second later, snores filled the room.

Simmons’ mouth was open in shock. He crawled out of his bed to take a better look. Grif was there, fat and big and all grown up and asleep. His cheek was pressed against the blue blanket.

Just to be sure, Simmons checked the bed for a baby one last time, and then he fled from the room.

* * *

“All normal?” Carolina asked, and all faces in Kimball’s office were turned towards Simmons.

His cheeks grew red under the attention. “I mean… He’s Grif.” He stuttered and cleared his throat. “ _Grif_. He’s Grif.”

Church sighed loudly, crossing his arms. “His name is Grif. Yes, we got that part.”

Carolina ignored her AI and asked another question: “And he doesn’t remember anything?”

There was a tension in the room as they awaited the answer.

But Simmons just shook his head. “Not a thing.”

A relieved sigh came from the entire group.

“Santa’s plan worked,” Wash said, almost in disbelief. After two months, their hopes hadn’t been high.

“Yeah, turns out AIs are always right. What a surprise,” Church said dryly, voice turning smug as he continued, “So of course no one in this room is missing the baby.”

For a second, there was an unspoken moment where they all relived their moments with the baby (in Caboose’s case: the times he’d been told not to go near the baby), and some turned their faces away, some denied all involvement in this, some just bit their lips.

Instead of thinking too much about it, Carolina continued the conversation with another question: “What are we going to tell him?”

Simmons cringed and tried to run a hand through his already messy hair. It looked like he’d fallen out of bed. Which was also the case. “Can’t we just… skip that part?”

Donut tilted his head. “Skip it?”

“Yes.” Simmons nodded eagerly, feeling more confident the more he thought about his idea. “We can just… Not talk about it.”

Sarge nodded in agreement, Donut following suit, but the rest of the crowd just frowned.

“That doesn’t seem to be the best reaction to this,” Wash said slowly.

But Simmons, to their surprise, remained confident about his plan, voice not even stuttering as he asked them, “How many of you held the baby?”

Everyone but Caboose had to raise their hand.

The Blue soldier looked around to realize he was the one left out. “I feel sad now.”

“And does anyone want to tell Grif they held him?” Simmons continued firmly, and he received no answer, as expected. “No one wants to. And why is that? Because this has been a very traumatic experience for everyone involved and I think the best solution would be to ignore it completely and never talk about it again.”

Clearing her throat, Doctor Grey reminded them all of her presence. “Excuse me – a doctor with a specialty in psyco-analysis in the room!”

“Great! Then I have qualified sources to back up my theory.” With his arms crossed, Simmons looked around the table to meet all of their glances. “We never mention this again.”

Doyle raised a hand, shrinking slightly under the attention given to him. “But the rumors about Captain Grif’s… condition didn’t stay under control for too long, did they?”.

“Grif is a heavy sleeper again!” Simmons insisted. “So we have all the time until noon to make sure everyone keeps their mouths shut about this.”

Carolina tilted her head. “And what are you going to tell Grif?”

* * *

“You were in a coma.”

Grif blinked. “A coma?”

Simmons nodded. “Yes.”

“For two months?”

“Yes.”

“Because I fell in the bathroom?”

“Yes. Now, would you please stop asking questions about this?” The best way to avoid conflict was to leave the situation, so Simmons spun around on his heel, marching to his corner of their shared quarters. “You’re being annoying.”

With a confused frown on his face, Grif kept following him, a hand in his dark hair. “Shouldn’t I be in the hospital or something?”

“You were. For two months. Aren’t you listening?”

“When did I wake up?”

“Yesterday. Grey discharged you. Can we please not talk about this?”

But Grif, naturally, continued to talk about it. “Was I like, dying?”

Simmons vaguely remembered the fear that had filled him when he’d heard Felix’ voice announce all the horrible ways he’d kill the baby, and how he’d thought that this was it, he’d gotten baby-Grif killed.

He bit his lip. “You’re fine now.”

“That’s not a calming answer,” Grif said, brows furrowed.

Throwing up his hands, Simmons raised his voice to yell, “We’re in the middle of a war, Grif! We could die any day! If you want reassurance, this isn’t the place for it.”

With angry movement he began to fold his clothes, wrinkling them in the process.

“Wow, you’re being a prick today,” Grif said as he let himself fall back onto his bed.

“No. No, I’m not. I’m being my standard level of prick today. In fact, we’re all being our standard selves and it’s perfect!”

Grif raised a single eyebrow. “Were you worried about me?”

The answer was immediate. “No.”

Grif’s mouth fell open. “Oh my god, you were, and now you’re acting all weird and-“ He’d been in the process of reaching an arm towards his night table when he froze. “Why the fuck is my drawer filled with pacifiers?”

Simmons couldn’t keep his expression from turning panicked, so he made sure to face the wall as he continued to fold his clothes. “Well, you weren’t using the storage space and Kimball needed to rearrange some old boxes and-“

“Whatever.” Grif’s hand dug past the pacifier, knocking it to the floor in the process, and found what he searched for. “I just wanted my Snicker.”

After stuffing it in his mouth, he laid back down to take a nap, ignoring his busy teammate.

When he was sure that Grif didn’t see it, Simmons leaned down to pick up the orange pacifier, cradling it in his hands.

* * *

“Why are people staring at me?” Grif asked with his mouth full of half-eaten burrito. He kept his shoulders raised as he turned his head around to glance at the people in the cafeteria with eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Simmons looked at his sandwich. “Maybe because you were in a coma,” he suggested and then took a big bite to avoid further conversation.

“Oh,” Grif said, frowning. “Right.”

Simmons had never eaten his lunch so quickly before in an attempt to keep his mouth full.

When Grif put down his burrito, he knew the situation was getting out of control.

“So why is Palomo looking at me like he wished I’d died?” Grif asked, staring towards the corner of the cafeteria where the Green Lieutenant was staring at them with a scowl, looking like Grif had just stolen his favorite pudding right in front of him (which was a situation that had occurred before).

“ _I never got to finish the scrapbook_ ,” he muttered heart-brokenly under his breath.

Simmons straightened out his back, trying to come up with a reason to explain the Lieutenant’s sour mood and failing. “I, uh…”

A voice came from the left of their table. “Hi, Captain Grif-“

“HE WAS IN A COMA!”

The table seemed to shake from Simmons’ loud voice.

Jensen was staring at the pair, mouth falling open in shock. “I. Uh. Yes.” She turned her head towards Grif again, sending him a small smile. “We just wanted to say it’s good to see you’re- that you’re feeling better.”

Behind her, Bitters was shifting the weight on his feet, making sure he wasn’t glancing towards his Captain. “Yeah. What she said.”

Grif, still stunned from Simmons’ outburst, frowned. “Uhm.” Unused to displays of kindness, he searched for the right word. “Thanks?”

“It was so good seeing you again!” Jensen told him before both of the Lieutenants left.

“This is so strange,” Grif said as he watched them leave with a frown on his face. “Did people like come to my bedside? Did they leave me cards and shit?”

“Not really,” Simmons said, keeping his focus on his lunch. But he knew there was a small possibility that his words might have hurt Grif, and the part of him that had been softened by a babbling baby added, “People were busy, you know, fighting off the pirates.”

Grif picked up his burrito again, making it clear he wasn’t dying or emotionally damaged. “Right,” he said, nodding. “Did you keep Locus and Felix busy while I was asleep?”

Simmons stared into the distance. “You could say that.”

* * *

“Today was weird,” Grif declared as he fell into his bed. The adjective hardly functioned to explain how it’d felt to see Sarge stare at him like he wanted to punch him but a force shield kept him back, Donut wiping away tears from his eyes while keeping a smile on his face, Carolina _blushing_ when she’d looked at him for too long, Caboose saying he’d grown a lot, and Tucker muttering about what to do with all the toys.

Simmons’ voice was hard as he asked, “Did you expect a fanfare?”

“I didn’t expect Church of all people to seem happy with my survival,” Grif replied, staring at the ceiling. “Like, I get why Sarge is gloomy, but you’d expect Donut to bounce a little and you-“

“And me?” Simmons cut him off, turning his head to stare at him with eyes widened in curiosity.

Under the glare, Grif had to shrug. “I don’t know. You’re… acting strange.” He snorted loudly. “I’m just surprised you guys didn’t just let Sarge turn off my respirator-“

Simmons had just sat down on his bed when his ass met something with a hard edge. He let out an ‘eep’ – and ‘eeeped’ even louder when he realized he was staring at Palomo’s unfinished scrapbook, filled with pictures of the baby.

“What?” Grif asked, pushing himself upwards by the palm. “Wait, did you he actually try to?”

Standing up, Simmons quickly shielded the book by putting it behind his back. “Yes. No. I- We’re all very happy to have you back. We just didn’t expect you to.” He bit his lip. “I missed you. And I’m glad you’re back. And the months without you were horrible, like, I think the remaining half of my face is now chronically numb from lack of sleep, but I actually survived those two months, and looking back on them, they actually weren’t one hundred percent horrible.”

“Oh.”

Giving into the panic and the emotion, Simmons found himself unable to stop talking. “In fact, I think they helped me grow. And show sides of myself I’ve never seen before-“

Grif held up a hand to cut him off. “I know you’re trying to cover your ass-“

“I just expressed some genuine emotions, Grif. If I wanted to please Sarge, I’d-“

“I’m talking about your physical, metal, half-fax ass that you’re currently covering with an object I want to get my hands on.”

Tilting his head towards Simmons, he made it clear he could see the book that Simmons had failed to hide with his body.

“Oh,” Simmons said, following his glance to look over his own shoulder. Before he could stop it from happening, Grif had leapt from the bed to tear the book from him. “Wait, no-“

The book fell from Grif’s hands, pictures falling slowly to the floor.

“What. The actual. Fuck.”

* * *

When Grif reached the final page, he let his thumb rest on one of the picture, showing him in a scowling Simmons’ arms as a chubby hand was pulling his red hair. “I look like Kai.”

Simmons looked over his shoulder, smiling. “Yeah… You were cute.”

“Nice use of past tense.” With a snort, Grif closed the scrapbook, still looking at it with a glint of disbelief in his eyes.

Simmons inhaled deeply before saying, “I just want to point out that everything turned out alright in the end.”

“I don’t want to think about this.” Grif groaned before falling back in his bed, hand pressed against his forehead. “Shit. Did Donut dress me up?”

Well, it felt bad to lie about it now. “Yes.”

Another groan came from his teammate. “Fuck you, Simmons, you were supposed to keep me safe.”

“Well, it was pretty hard when everyone wanted to hold you!”

Removing his hand to glare at him, Grif narrowed his eyes. “Who?! Who held me?”

The list was too long. But Simmons had to start somewhere. “Sarge.”

“ _What_?!”

“And Carolina. And Bitters. And Jensen and-“

Grif groaned again, pressing his face against the pillow. “Okay, I get the idea.”

“Pretty much everyone except Caboose. And Felix.”

“I- _Wait_.”

Before Grif could think too much about what he’d just said, Simmons made sure to quickly add, “But I was like your main babysitter. And you cried. All the time. And you didn’t sleep. And, oh my god, why couldn’t you just sleep?!”

Removing his head from the pillow, Grif sent Simmons a smug smile. “Sounds like I gave you a hard time.”

Nodding, Simmons began to pace back and forth as he could finally rant to Grif about what he’d suffered through. Two months of torture ready to be revealed. “I didn’t get any sleep and I- I couldn’t be a part of missions and the Lieutenants kept losing you and- and the kidnapping totally wasn’t my fault, if anyone brings that up-“

“The what?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Simmons said, waving it off. “You came back. You’re back.”

Tilting his head, Grif gained eye-contact with him as he asked, “And we all agree that’s a good thing?”

“I mean, you don’t have the baby cuteness factor now,” Simmons said sheepishly.

To argue against Simmons’ point, Grif stuck out his lip to make a pouting face.

“Stop it,” Simmons said, turning his face away so he couldn’t be tempted. Grif laughed quietly before falling back into his bed. Sighing softly, Simmons told him, “But you don’t shit yourself any longer, so yeah, this version of you is definitely better.”

 “Welp,” Grif said, staring upwards. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life avoiding everyone’s eyes. Fuck me.”

“Well, I’m sure they’ll learn to appreciate you eventually.”

“Thanks,” Grif snorted and rolled over to find a more comfortable position. In the process he managed to press his face against a blue blanket which he quickly threw on the floor. “Urgh. I’m gonna find baby shit everywhere, aren’t I?”

“I’m sorry for spoiling you,” Simmons told him dryly. When he thought the motion would go by unnoticed, he quickly reached for the blanket, hiding it under his pillow.

Grif watched it from the corner of his eye but said nothing.

 “Good to have you back, Grif,” Simmons said, one hand on the blue blanket for memories’ sake.

“Good to be back,” came the reply from the other end of the room.

There was a moment of silence – which seemed strange after months of crying.

It didn’t last for long, however.

 “Hey, Simmons?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna tuck me in?”

With the blue blanket in his fist, Simmons used his other hand to throw his pillow right at Grif’s laughing face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaaaand final chapter. Half a year ago I was unsure if I'd ever finish this fic, but here we are. I hope you enjoyed this strange and crazy journey. Thank you all so much for the support!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm riathedreamer on tumblr if you want to see a lot of grimmons related stuff, notes about my fics and sketches of scenes.  
> Thank you for reading my story!
> 
> Look Creatrixanimi has been super freaking awesome and made a lot of pieces for this fic after reading the chapters, and you all need to go check them out:
> 
> Here is babyGrif and Sarge from chapter 5: http://creatrixanimi.tumblr.com/post/173346431747/i-just-found-this-doodle-i-drew-like-3-weeks-ago
> 
> Here is the drawing of babyGrif and Locus that inspired me for chapter 6: http://creatrixanimi.tumblr.com/post/175357039882/is-there-a-babygrif-and-locus-picture
> 
> And here is the amazing cartoon of what she expected to happen in chapter 8: http://creatrixanimi.tumblr.com/post/175424659422/ok-so-i-had-to-draw-this-after-the-newest-chapter
> 
> All the drawings are amazing and I love them so much, please check them out!


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